


The things you find when you're not looking

by DearR



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Amis get together, Amsterdam, But sex is only mentioned, E/R are taking their time but they'll get there, Everything is the same as always, Grantaire is a prostitute, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, It's not as rough as it sounds, Mentions of Rape, Multi, No Porn, Poverty, Recreational Drug Use, certain people get together..., except it's Amsterdam!, it's kinda cute mostly, lots of bikes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2018-04-10 00:13:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 48,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4369766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DearR/pseuds/DearR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Enjolras birthday and Grantaire gets new shoes.</p><p>AU in modern day Amsterdam where it's always raining, the university is always looking for rebellious youth and drugs and prostitution are legal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Stranger in the room.

**Author's Note:**

> In case you were wondering, I am from the Netherlands and I know Amsterdam although I don't live there. It also makes English not my first language. Comments are very welcome. Hope you'll enjoy the first bit! 
> 
> PS: some heavy topics are discussed in this fic. If you have any questions or you want some reading advice (or you just want to say hi, that's fine too!), contact me at: www.deargrantaire.tumblr.com and I'll help you!

It had been a busy day. Fridays were always busy but today had been three times worse as a regular Friday. Suddenly everybody had asked to speak him, kiss him, shake hands. Enjolras had never liked birthdays. During all the fuzz he had forgotten about lunch and now he was starving. Despite his weary mood, he did notice the weather outside to be beautiful. He decided to not let that fact infect him. For a day in Amsterdam, it was to be called warm. At least it didn’t rain and there were hardly any clouds. Enjolras noticed this when he decided to walk home rather than take the tram. The latter was quicker, but walking helped him to relax. This was his birthday, he could take a little relaxation.  
The inside of the building where he and Combeferre shared an apartment was surprisingly cold when coming from outside. It was an ugly building, the staircases were all concrete and empty. To make up for that loss of sphere they had decorated their apartment well, with lots of plants they forgot to take care of and books. If he would open the window perhaps he would have a soft breeze on his face as he got to work, Enjolras considered this when he opened the door. It wasn’t only a soft breeze coming towards him, somebody was smoking. Confused Enjolras blinked his eyes be-cause since he met Joly none of his friends smoked. He stepped inside to see who was in the room. Someone was sitting in the window of his apartment. The sun made him look like a silhouette with black hair and a loose shirt. At his feet there was one of the big plants he and Combeferre had bought to make the apartment look more friendly. Two worn off shoes were standing half behind it. The walls were a soft shade of blue because Combeferre had forbidden him to paint them red. And the silhouette didn’t fit there. Enjolras cleared his throat and the man, because now he could see it was a man, looked around and smiled.  
‘He was right, you are handsome.’ His voice was softer than his face looked. Not at all unkind.  
‘Excuse me?’ Enjolras said still confused. Who was this man and what was he doing here?  
‘Handsome, you. Don’t tell me you never hear people say that. They must say it to you all the time.’ The man inhaled from his cigarette and blew the smoke outside. Something in that movement was so elegant, Enjolras had never seen the beauty that sometimes came with smoking.  
‘For your information, they don’t because they know I don’t see reason to talk about those things.’ Specially not with a stranger who had no business here.  
‘Well, they should, because you are.’  
‘Did you came here to tell me people should mention me being handsome more often?’ Enjolras asked him, walking to the kitchen table and dropping his schoolbag there.  
‘No- oh, right, I forgot. Happy birthday! I hope you don’t mind I refused to jump out of a cake.’ Sarcasm. Enjolras didn’t always notice it on time but this was clearly sarcasm. Combeferre would be so proud of him.  
‘Jump out of a cake?’ He looked at the dark haired man and rose one eyebrow. ‘Why would you do that?’  
‘Some people have weird hobbies?’  
‘I didn’t ask why some people would do that, I asked why you would. Or wouldn’t.’  
The man threw the remaining of his cigarette out of the window and turned to face the living room. ‘Let me make one thing clear, Apollo-‘  
‘Enjolras.’  
‘What?’ the man asked confused when he interrupted whatever he was saying.  
‘My name is Enjolras.’  
‘Oh, right. Whatever. Let me make one thing clear, Enjolras,’ he emphasized his name now, ‘I’m not an artist, nor am I a performer. Not a stripper either. I’m here to let you have a good time, that’s what I’m good at. But no roll playing or whatever shit people think of. If you want that, you have to pay me more.’  
Enjolras opened his mouth and closed it again. His brain was working on top speed. ‘You… You’re a prostitute?’ The man grinned.  
‘Good thing we figured that one out.’  
He could have known. Last year they brought him two girls dressed up as bunnies. Took him almost half an hour before they would finally leave him alone. At least this one wasn’t clenching to his body like an octopus. ‘I have no interest in your services,’ he informed the man and sat down at the table, taking a book out of his bag. He saw the grin on the others face get even wider.  
‘Why? Don’t believe I’m good? I am, I’m really good.’  
Enjolras couldn’t tell what was bothering him more, his tune or his face.  
‘Look, I don’t know who came up with this idea, but I’m really not interested.’  
‘I could make you interested?’ the man offered.  
‘I seriously doubt that.’  
‘Right. So you’re not gay?’  
Enjolras looked at him confused. ‘I don’t believe that’s what I said.’  
‘So you are? I’m already paid for, I’m here an hour. Or, 45 minutes now, you were late. And even if you don’t feel it now, I’m sure I can help you with that.’  
Enjolras sighed. ‘I already told you, I am not interested, nor will I be later. Thank you very much, but you can leave.’ He took his book out of his bag and started read-ing. The man in his apartment didn’t leave. Enjolras tried to ignore him for some time. That obviously didn’t work, there was no way he could concentrate like this. And he remembered he was still hungry. Annoyed again he put down his book and got up. In the fridge and drawers there was nothing left for him to eat. Combeferre wasn’t around for a few days and normally he was the one to make sure there was enough food. If he couldn’t make sure of that himself, he made Enjolras a list. Now all he found was bread and some sausage. That would be just fine though and he placed everything on the table. He got himself a plate and sat down again. While making himself some bread, he noticed the man was looking at him again. Or rather, looking at the food. Enjolras frowned a bit. ‘If you want some…’  
‘No, I’m fine.’ He looked back out of the window again. Now he came to think about it, perhaps Enjolras did prefer the bunnies over this man. He rolled his eyes and got up to get a second plate. ‘Come here and eat.’  
‘Why?’ the man looked at him again.  
‘Because apparently you’re not leaving anyway, and to be honest, you do look like you could use some more food.’ In his tight, dark jeans the man looked awful skinny.  
‘Or perhaps you just like ordering me around.’  
Why…? Where did that come from?  
‘Or perhaps you are in my apartment and I could easily have you removed.’ Playing it hard could be an idea.  
‘You wouldn’t.’ He sounded very sure of himself.  
‘Why do you think?’  
‘Because I would shout so loud everybody would hear that I’m a hooker and make you blush.’  
Enjolras leaned forward on the table.  
‘Try me.’  
‘Maybe I will.’ His voice sounded darker now, mysterious, challenging.  
‘You wouldn’t.’ Now it was the other’s time to be confused.  
‘Why?’  
‘Because I’m offering you free food. You already told me you’re only into it for the money.’ When the other didn’t react directly Enjolras took that as a victory and opened his book with one hand while taking his bread in his other. After a moment he saw the other man moving in the corner of his eye. Carefully he got out of the window and walked towards the table. Somehow the way he walked looked elegant. Silent as well. He pulled away a chair and sat down. Now he was so close Enjolras could see he was wearing a bit of make up around his eyes. It suited him, made him look pretty. Enjolras frowned a little at that thought and looked in his book again. Carefully as if afraid he actually wasn’t allowed, the man took some bread. When Enjolras still didn’t react, he quickly placed his teeth in it. He ate in silence. Enjolras read.  
‘What is your name?’ he asked suddenly. The man looked up from the painting he had been staring at and that Combeferre had once bought from a street artist.  
‘What?’  
‘Your name. I told you mine, it’s only polite to do the same?’  
‘What name do you want to hear?’  
That question surprised Enjolras. The eyes of the man were green, he noticed. ‘You have more?’  
‘When I work they call me Raphael. But my friends call me Grantaire.’  
Enjolras nodded. ‘I see.’ But he still didn’t know how he should call him. ‘And this is work I suppose?’  
‘I get paid for it.’ Of course. Stupid to ask.  
‘So I call you Raphael.’  
‘I guess.’  
Enjolras frowned at him. What was that supposed to mean?  
‘Do people really call you Enjolras?’ Raphael asked him.  
‘They do. Why do you ask?’  
Raphael shrugged. ‘It’s a strange name. I thought you might have a nickname or something.’  
‘They try to give me nicknames, but I prefer to just be called Enjolras.’  
‘What nicknames?’ Raphael asked grinning.  
‘I’m not going to tell you.’  
‘Why not? I could use them to shout at you when you’re coming in my ass.’  
Enjolras blinked. ‘I believe I already told you I’m not interested in your services.’  
‘Perhaps not right now, but I can leave you my number?’  
‘It’s alright if you stay here, but I don’t want you to talk like that,’ Enjolras told him severe.  
‘Alright, I get it,’ Raphael said, raising his hands in surrender. ‘No sex. Nothing else either?’  
‘You can sit here and eat as much as you like, but nothing else.’  
‘Are y-’  
‘Nothing else.’  
Raphael shrugged and made himself some more bread. Enjolras looked back in his book and it was silent for a moment.  
‘Am I still allowed to talk?’ Raphael asked after a few minutes. Enjolras sighed and looked up.  
‘If you’re able to have a normal conversation.’  
‘What are you reading?’  
Enjolras looked at the cover of his book. ‘Surprisingly, it’s just like the title says. It’s for school.’ He flipped a page and continued reading.  
‘So what does the title say?’  
‘There’s nothing metaphorical about it,’ Enjolras told him, not looking up. ‘It’s like the book, all facts. The title is the subject of the book. It’s not like our philosophy books, where you have to think about each sentence at least twice while-‘  
‘Enjolras? I don’t know what the title says. I can’t read.’ Now Enjolras did look up.  
‘Are you serious?’ he asked shocked. ‘Did you never learn?’  
Raphael laughed. ‘Yeah, they tried that. I can read a little but I haven’t in some time and there were always more important things.’  
‘You- it’s absurd not to be able to read. How can you even manage in life without being able to read?’ This was really mind blowing for him.  
Raphael shrugged. ‘Having sex with people doesn’t involve much reading normally.’  
‘But everything else? Did you never go to college?’  
‘Nope,’ Raphael grinned. His grin showed teeth that weren’t perfect set in place like his own. They weren’t as white either.  
‘And how about your apartment?’  
‘I share one.’  
‘Shopping?’  
‘Ripe the tag off and ask what the price is. Or steal it.’  
Enjolras decided to ignore that last bit.  
‘Official documents? Letters?’  
‘I just ask somebody to read them to me.’  
Enjolras shook his head in disbelieve. ‘This is ridiculous.’ He tried to think back of when he had learned to read, but he couldn’t really remember. It felt like he had al-ways been able to. ‘I know there are people who have trouble reading and writing, but… You seem too young for that.’ Enjolras looked at him frowning again. ‘How old are you anyway?’  
‘Twenty-five,’ the man told him.  
‘I find it hard to believe that.’ He himself was twenty-four and he was rather sure he was older.  
‘Fine. Twenty-two,’ he admitted and shrugged. ‘Does it matter?’  
‘Why did you tell me you were older?’  
‘You seemed older.’  
Enjolras shook his head. ‘That doesn’t make sense.’  
‘I’m a prostitute, I tell people what I think they want to hear. You seem like somebody who would prefer sex with somebody the same age,’ Raphael explained him.  
‘How…’  
‘You treat me like an equal.’  
‘How did you know my age?’  
‘Birthday cards,’ Raphael said, nodding at the cards at the table.  
‘Of course,’ Enjolras mumbled, not wanting to sound too impressed. ‘So you can read?’  
‘I can count till twenty-four, thank you.’ Looking at the cards, there was indeed one with seemingly twenty-four candles on it. Enjolras frowned, thinking this over.  
‘You don’t know how to write twenty-four in numbers as well?’  
‘I always get the order confused,’ Grantaire shrugged. ‘Twenty-two is a perfect age for me. Maybe I’ll just stay twenty-two forever.’  
‘You can’t.’  
‘Long time since somebody told me what I can and can’t do.’  
‘Your age is not something you can just decide,’ Enjolras frowned. He had put his book down and just looked at the man in front of him. The longer he looked, the more imperfect he became. He had a scar on his hairline and his hair looked like it could use a shower. His eyes were both a beautiful shade of green as dark and dangerous looking. This was a man who could hold himself in a street fight.  
‘I don’t see any reason why not.’  
‘You’re mocking me now.’  
‘Am not.’ The man Raphael put his teeth in another slide of bread. How much had he been eating already? If it went on like this he would have to go for groceries him-self.  
‘You cannot choose your own age, it’s as simple as that.’  
‘I can.’  
Enjolras rolled his eyes at him. ‘You’re unbelievable. Are you really that dumb or just too stubborn to admit you’re wrong?’  
‘Oh, am I?’ Raphael said. ‘You seem so sure of yourself, Apollo.’  
Frowning at that nickname, again, Enjolras said: ‘I am. I study politics, I know the law. It says you can change your name, but nowhere it says you can change your age.’  
‘It doesn’t say you can’t either, does it?’ Raphael guessed.  
‘Don’t be ridiculous, of course you can’t! That would include changing the date you were born. So unless you found a way to travel in time…’  
‘I don’t have a TARDIS, so no.’  
‘You watch Doctor Who?’ Enjolras asked surprised. He didn’t, he couldn’t find the time to really watch a TV show. But most of his friends watched, he believed. Combeferre used to have long debates about it with Courfeyrac.  
‘Just a few of the old ones,’ Raphael shrugged. ‘I don’t have a TV.’  
‘You could watch them online?’  
The dark haired man laughed. ‘Don’t have a computer either. Can’t read, remem-ber?’  
‘Oh, right.’ This was so confusing. ‘But you said you could give me your number, what would mean you had a phone?’  
‘Unbreakable Nokia, got it from a friend. Speaking about him, aren’t you gonna ask who let me in here?’  
‘No.’ It was silent for a moment.  
‘Because…?’ Raphael clearly couldn’t help but to ask. Somehow that made Enjolras feel a little good inside.  
‘Because it was Courfeyrac.’  
Raphael laughed again. It was a honest and nice laugh to listen at. ‘You could so sure of yourself. Was he the ginger one, or the brown curly?’ Enjolras frowned at that. So Feuilly was in this too. That would probably mean Bahorel as well. He made a note to himself to make them pay later.  
‘The brunet,’ Enjolras told him.  
‘Ah. He was alright. Maybe I’ll visit him later on, if you’re really not goi-‘  
‘Last warning.’  
Raphael rose an eyebrow. ‘You sound like a teacher.’ It was silent for a moment. ‘I hate teachers.’  
‘Good on you.’ It was silent again. Enjolras cleared his throat and picked up his book again. A few easy minutes past while none of them spoke. Raphael got up silently and moved back to the window. For a moment Enjolras suspected he was going to smoke again, but when he looked over his book for a moment, he could see the man putting on the pair of old shoes.  
‘You’re leaving?’  
‘Clearly.’  
‘Didn’t like the food?’  
Raphael laughed. ‘No, it’s old bread.’  
‘We could make toast of it?’  
‘Perhaps next time.’ The man got up and blew him a kiss.  
‘Get out,’ Enjolras told him, not unkind. The man rewarded him with a smile and walked to the door. Enjolras looked back at his book but dropped it when the man said: ‘Think fast!’ He was just able to catch a heavy envelope with his own name on it.  
‘I don’t like stealing from a honest man,’ Raphael told him. ‘Even when you’re rich as fuck.’  
‘How…’  
‘Birthday cards.’  
Enjolras understood. He threw the envelope back at him. ‘Keep it. I don’t need it anyway. Buy some decent shoes. Winter will take long.’  
‘I appreciate it, thanks.’ And with that the man was gone, as if afraid Enjolras would change his mind. Enjolras didn’t. He was probably indeed rich ‘as fuck’ and although that envelope would probably have a lot of money in it, he wasn’t bothered by losing it. Raphael did seem like some money would do him good. If he wouldn’t just buy booze and drugs from it, of course. But then again, Enjolras didn’t need it anyway and this way it was like he had been supporting a good cause. At least that was what he told himself when left alone in a quiet apartment. That he had done something to help this stranger.


	2. Meet Montparnasse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never realised how exciting it is to post something you wrote online and wait for people to read it. Very exciting and kind of terrifying... 
> 
> Anyway! New chapter. Just a bit of Grantaire/Parnasse here, hope you enjoy!

He would never admit it, not even to Jehan or Eponine, but the weeks after The Incident Grantaire thought about the blond Enjolras guy a remarkable lot. He never bothered to look at customers more than once before turning his back to them because his back was probably all they wanted of him anyways. There wasn’t that much else on him that would ask for attention. He looked most pretty in the dark. Preferable with some alcohol in you already. Then at least you wouldn’t notice the scars, or his missing teeth, or the old burn on his heel. He liked those moments the most, when it was dark and he was drunk and somebody was fucking him a bit too rough. It made him feel alive. Moments that never lasted more than minutes. But now even at those moments his mind was occupied with blond hair and beautiful eyes that wouldn’t even look at him. Wondering how Enjolras would have fucked him. 

Of course, Montparnasse notices. ‘Bad customer?’ he guessed while he and Grantaire were sitting and smoking outside of the brothel the large man owned. No weed, Grantaire didn’t like weed that much. He liked alcohol. And he wasn’t drunk enough yet to last a night. Grantaire shrugged a bit, this wasn’t something Montparnasse would understand. All he really understood was money. What Grantaire gave him, in return for a room, customers and at least some safety. 

Montparnasse pushed against his shoulder. The spikes of his new leather jacket pushed right through the barely covering shirt Grantaire was wearing. ‘You’re a talker,’ he said. He had a terrible voice, Grantaire thought. Not the voice of a smoker, just one of someone who was used to being heard and followed. ‘Talk to me.’ 

‘Not much to say.’ Grantaire’s voice wasn’t that great either, for completely different reasons. Although the girls kept asking him to sing. If he was sober enough, sometimes he would. 

‘If nothing happened, then what made you frown so much,’ Montparnasse reasoned. 

‘I didn’t say nothing happened, I just said there wasn’t much to say about it.’ 

‘So something did happen?’ 

Grantaire shrugged again, blowing out smoke. Fog. He liked fog. Specially in his head. 

‘Tell me.’ Not a question anymore. So far for the playing friendly Montparnasse. 

‘Nothing. Two weeks ago, I was with that friend of Jehan. Or, with that person Jehan knows.’ He wasn’t sure they were really friend. Jehan was friends with Correfak… however that dude was called. Mont hummed to make him go on. ‘And he didn’t want me.’ 

‘Not into man? That happens,’ Montparnasse said with disinterest. 

‘No, he was gay. I think. He just… he didn’t want me,’ Grantaire thought frowning. 

‘Then you did something wrong.’ Montparnasse looked at him with this weird look in his eyes. Like you were looking at a broken light. Something you had to replace and Grantaire got scared. Mont was an asshole but he needed this place, it was so much better than being on the street. The man took Grantaire’s arm in his hand as if to measure him. 

‘I could use new clothes,’ Grantaire said, taking his arm back. 

‘Watch your tune. I already told you that clothes were something you have to pay for yourself. You managed just fine with buying those shoes, so clothes won’t be a problem either, will it, Raphael?’ 

Ways to use his first name, number one: as a threat. Grantaire huffed and reached for the bottle of whiskey. He did have nice shoes now and he tried to be very careful with them to make them last. That was why he mostly went around barefoot lately. 

‘I think you grew fat.’ 

Grantaire spit out the liquate. ‘What?’ 

‘Fat. Here.’ Montparnasse took his arm again and squeezed it. 

‘Maybe if you’d give me less bruises, I’d look better,’ Grantaire protested. Montparnasse hit him in his face, just to make him remember who ruled this place. On his more sober days, Grantaire didn’t speak bad about Montparnasse. After all, the man did look after them, to some degree. He picked people off the street, gave them a place to work and a place to sleep. Except for the fake ID’s for those under 21 everything about the place was legal, the police never found anything to complain about. 

‘Ask Eva to cut your hair and shave your legs properly before you come to me tonight.’ 

Grantaire rolled his eyes. At moments like this he came very close to hating the handsome man he worked for. Mont wouldn’t even notice that hair tonight, but he would notice in the afternoon, when he woke up wrapped around Grantaire. He quickly got up before he could get hit again, taking the whiskey inside.


	3. A rainy day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer, winter, rain is something you can count on. Time to meet Jehan, Courfeyrac and Combeferre.

Courfeyrac was a happy fellow and with the stories Grantaire heard about him he couldn’t quit picture him with his long haired friend who rode poetry so dark that it sometimes even made Grantaire shiver. But when he met him, he understood why they did go together. Courfeyrac was a tall guy, decently clothed although his shoes looked old and worn off. He was the type of guy that spend at least an hour in the bathroom ever morning and who’s body had a different smell on every part of skin. But it wasn’t his looks Jehan had fallen for, it was the way he moved around people and his never ending smile. Grantaire could see from a distance that his friend was in love and it made him smile. Jehan deserved a friend like Courfeyrac. A real flower in his life instead of only in his hair and on his clothes. 

The day was cold and a soft rain came down in the small street of Amsterdam. Jehans street, although it didn’t look the slightest like Jehans small but bright apartment. The street had no flowers, no colours. It had no poetry. Grantaire was standing at one end of it, hiding in his hoody against the rain although he felt completely soaked already. Jehan and his friend were standing in the doorframe. Apparently Courfeyrac wanted him to come with him, laughing and gesturing while talking. Jehan was smiling and leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed. He looked happy and that was all Grantaire could really care for. He was sober and he had nowhere to go for at least another two hours. Even though he had longed for Jehans company over last week, there was no fucking way he was going to disturb this. 

‘Courfeyrac!’ 

Apparently somebody else didn’t agree with him. Grantaire ducked away in an alley when he heard somebody approach from behind. A man with glasses, short hair and a proper trench coat entered the alley, walking besides his new looking bike. Courfeyrac tried to wave him off. 

‘You said five minutes.’ The man came walking in to the street, not noticing Grantaire when passing him. Luckily. Using the dark, Grantaire sneaked out of the small street, looking around just once to see Jehan greeting the new man- and then walking in on somebody else. He was utterly confused, what was more the reason of his fall than the force of the impact. 

‘Sorry,’ he said quick, sitting up and he was going to stand himself when a hand appeared in his eyesight. It was rather pale for this time of year, just after the summer. He hesitated but took it, letting him being pulled up. And like that, he was suddenly standing just inches away from Enjolras. His eyes grew wide and he wanted to take a step back, but the man was for some reason still holding his hand. Enjolras frowned slightly. 

‘Raphael,’ he said slow. ‘Am I right?’ 

Ways to say his name, number two: hesitating. 

‘I’m really sorry I walked into you like that,’ Grantaire said quick, taking his hand back and stepping anyway. 

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Enjolras said, getting up the red bike he had been walking with that had fallen on the cobblestones. ‘I hope you didn’t hurt yourself?’ 

Grantaire grinned a bit. ‘I just fall, I didn’t get hit by a truck or something.’ 

Enjolras was ready to make a remark at that when somebody shouted a name for the second time in a few minutes. ‘R!’ Grantaire looked around to see Jehan waving him to come closer. Wat number three: enthusiastic and hopeful. Grantaire much rather just turned around but Jehan was his friend and- what the hell was he even doing here? Enjolras started walking towards the little group of people and almost automatically, Grantaire followed him. He didn’t like talking with people he didn’t really know. Specially not three at once. But neither did Jehan, so these must be good people. Jehan jumped in his arms, what made Grantaire smile slightly. These arms were the only ones he trusted. 

‘Hey,’ he said. 

‘How long were you standing there?’ Jehan said disapproving. 

‘I wasn’t… not long,’ Grantaire said defensive. ‘You were occupied, I didn’t…’ 

Jehan chuckled and kissed his cheek. ‘I know, don’t worry. But I’m glad you’re here. Did you meet Courfeyrac, Combeferre and Enjolras already?’ Jehan let go of him, but kept his arm around Grantaire’s waist. 

‘Hey!’ Courfeyrac said, bouncing towards him to shake his hand enthusiastically. 

‘Hello,’ Grantaire was just able to say in between the man’s lines. 

‘I heard so much about you! You seem to be a great guy.’ 

Grantaire looked at Jehan, who shrugged. ‘You are,’ he explained. ‘And half of my poems are about you anyway.’ 

‘He read your poems?’ Grantaire said amazed. Hardly anybody did. Most who read one didn’t dare to start a second. 

‘Some.’ 

‘And this is Ferre!’ Courfeyrac said, shoving the glass man forwards. 

‘Combeferre,’ the man explained, holding out his hand for Grantaire to shake. 

‘I guessed.’ 

‘And this is-‘ 

‘I know who Enjolras is,’ Grantaire said, looking at the blond man for a moment. 

Jehan coughed a bit. ‘He’s the friend you hired for his birthday.’ Courfeyrac’s eyes grew wide. Great. Just great. Now they were on that topic again, he really wanted to leave. 

‘I still haven’t forgiven you for that,’ Enjolras reminded him. Courfeyrac’s eyes were still on Grantaire.

‘You’re so young,’ he stumbled. 

‘I’m-‘ He looked at Enjolras, who looked back at him, what made it impossible to lie. ‘Twenty-two. What is a legal age.’ He looked from one to the other, wanting desperately to leave. Or reach in his bag for the bottle of whiskey he had stolen from Montparnasse earlier. 

‘It sounds young to me,’ Courfeyrac explained. ‘How long have you been working there?’ 

‘None of your business,’ Grantaire said, taking a step back. 

‘R,’ Jehan protested, taking his hand. The fourth way to say his name: sighing and having expected more. He didn’t care. 

‘No, they just want to feel sorry for me,’ Grantaire said, letting his hand fall. ‘But I’ll tell you, I like my job and if you want to pity somebody to feel better about your own life, than you can go fuck somebody else.’ 

‘I didn’t mean that at all,’ Courfeyrac said shocked. 

‘Yeah, right,’ Grantaire said. ‘Learn me about the world. You’re all fucking idiots anyway.’ 

‘What is wrong with you?’ Enjolras said, looking at him angry. ‘He just asked you something! Who are you to decide we are all idiots?’ 

‘Apparently I’m just a whore who’s whole life is dedicated to sex and who sure as hell can’t talk about anything else let alone have an opinion. And-‘ 

‘And nothing,’ Jehan said frowning. ‘If you’re just here to insult my friends, you can leave.’

‘I’m not-‘ 

‘Yes, kind of are.’ 

Grantaire groaned annoyed but shut up non the less. Courfeyrac cleared his throat awkwardly. 

‘So, I was just asking Jehan here to come along to a meeting of our little group tonight. You could join as well, I’d love to get to know you.’ 

‘Yeah, no,’ Grantaire said. ‘I can spend my free time better then… with whatever you do. But have fun. I’ll see you later, Jehan.’ 

‘Be careful,’ Jehan told him, as always. His kiss felt really loving and so different from everybody else who normally touched him. 

‘You too.’ He left them alone.


	4. The Musain during the afternoon.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trying to find a quiet place to work, Enjolras finds somebody else...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'm still alive! 
> 
> So sorry for the delay, school started again, you know, the usual. I'll try to post more regularly from now, have some trips to Amsterdam planned for inspiration... 
> 
> Enjoy some more E/R :)

Jehan had been strangely welcome in their small group of friends. He was a weird fellow Enjolras understood very little about and he did a lot of things Enjolras just couldn’t agree with. After making a few remarks about the smell of weed around the poet, Combeferre had taken him apart and told him that it was a decision Jehan had made for himself and asked him kindly to shut up about it for Courfeyrac’s sake. That was the first time Enjolras had realized what was happening between this new friend and the friend he had known since he had come to Amsterdam for University a few years ago. He did shut up about it, as suggested, and just walked out every time Jehan seemed to be on something, what seemed to be about half of the time. At one special occasion, that meant he had to walk out of his own apartment, what he did without complaining. 

In a small coffee place, hidden from the tourists, he worked on an article. The place was cheap but clean and served decent enough coffee. More important, they had a lot of power outlets for laptops or phones to charge. The tables were large enough for all his papers but small enough to occupy on his own without getting strange looks from the people who came in for coffee and the view on a small inner courtyard with some small trees worked calming on him. Amsterdam could be a bit overwhelming sometimes with all its tourists and endless protests, all the people he felt like he should meet and talk to, hear their story. Here, there simply weren’t much people and most were regulars Enjolras had seen before. The Musain had missed out on the stream of people passing through Amsterdam every day and Enjolras very selfishly wished it would stay like that. 

Sitting in a corner with his face viewing the window, the people behind him weren’t able to distract him much and as long as he bought coffee regularly nobody would bother him. He hardly noticed the café behind him anymore. 

‘A large coffee please, and one of those cheese sandwich things,’ a familiar voice said behind him. Enjolras frowned annoyed and tried to concentrate on his work more to block out the sound. 

‘Six twenty.’ The sound of coins sounded like Courfeyrac was playing a bonus level of Mario. The bar tender mumbled while counting. 

‘On a second thought, just the coffee,’ the man sighed. ‘Or do you work with accounts and I can pay you back later?’ 

‘Sadly, no,’ the man laughed. 

Not able to identify with just the man’s voice, Enjolras looked around. A small figure was leaning heavily against the counter, the hoody of an old sweater hiding most of his black curls. ‘It’s okay, you can put it on my bill.’ Raphael looked up and grinned when seeing him. Enjolras couldn’t help but frown when seeing how his face looked both pale and dark at the same time. The corner of his mouth had been broken and still showed a small wound that wasn’t healing well yet. His eyes were slightly red and like he had just woken up. Looking at the coffee he was buying, that was very possibly true. 

‘Well, I always thought it would be useful Jehan made friends with some rich guys,’ he said mocking, picking up his coins and hiding them away before carrying his coffee and sandwich to Enjolras table. He couldn’t help but look at the new shoes under shattered jeans that revealed his skin at several points. 

‘They’re nice, right?’ Raphael laughed. ‘And I didn’t even steal them. Not that I would ever, of course,’ he added quickly. ‘Just a way of speaking.’ Enjolras hummed and removed some books to make place for him. He hadn’t realized that offering to buy him his food would mean he would come to sit with him. This was really inconvenient for he was just making a strong point in the article he was writing. ‘If I were rich though, I would probably get all my food from the Bijenkorf, they have these pies that even if it’s just a picture, it looks eatable and delicious.’ 

‘They’re not that good,’ Enjolras mumbled, staring at his laptop, wondering how rude it would be to work and pretend to listen at the same time. Combeferre very possibly wouldn’t approve. 

‘No? Shame. Another thing to scratch from my bucket list. How about Starbucks?’ 

‘I’m against it.’ 

‘Because of the gay thing?’ 

Enjolras looked up confused. ‘What?’ 

Raphael shrugged, taking a bite of his sandwich before talking again, not even bothering to put his hand in front of his mouth or anything. Enjolras looked away in disgust when seeing bits of cheese and bread coming by while the other was talking. ‘You know, there was this story some time ago about all the man going there being gay or something. Or working there, I don’t remember. Or the place turning you gay… At least it’s rich and hipster. I know people who keep the cups and pour cheap coffee in it to carry around, just to look cool.’ He seemed to be able to chat and eat just fine, an art Enjolras had never mastered because he and Combeferre normally read while eating and he never used to speak much with his parents when living home. Not during meals and not in general. 

‘I’m against it because it’s a massive concept carried worldwide with the simple desire to make a lot of money, there is no idea or ideal behind it at all,’ Enjolras stated. 

‘Oh, you’re one of the organic and veggy persons,’ Raphael nodded. ‘So, Bagels and Beans? That’s even more rich and fancy.’ 

‘Too crowded and they make a too big deal about being a good choice.’ 

‘Right,’ Raphael snorted. ‘Don’t want to advertise your good points of course. So you dislike everything?’ 

‘I never said that,’ Enjolras frowned. ‘I just prefer local collectives who think about the environment and the future, not for their business or to feel good about themselves, but because they actually care.’ 

Raphael laughed as if he had been joking and finished his sandwich while shaking his head. 

‘What do you prefer?’ Enjolras asked after a moment, confused by the others reaction. The man shrugged. 

‘Whatever’s cheap and close by.’ He brushed the crumbles of bread off his chin with his sleeve. Enjolras seriously doubted that would make it any cleaner. 

‘So you don’t care at all.’ 

‘No,’ Raphael grinned. ‘Not at all.’ They were silent for another moment while Raphael also downed his coffee. ‘What are you working on?’ he asked, clearly to make conversation Enjolras didn’t want. 

‘College stuff.’ 

‘Right. School stuff.’ 

‘Not school, university,’ Enjolras corrected automatically. That made Raphael laugh really hard, making Enjolras look up annoyed. 

‘Of course, your fancy university shouldn’t go by the name ‘’school’’,’ he said mocking. ‘You rich kids are way too good for a common word like school.’ 

‘That’s not it at all,’ Enjolras protested. ‘University is just… It’s more than just school, it’s a future your working on.’ 

‘Your future,’ Raphael nodded. ‘Of rich people. And normal school doesn’t do that? Like, if I follow some higher education that isn’t university, I’m not working on a future?’ 

‘Of course you are,’ Enjolras said quickly, seeing the wrong in his argument. ‘I just mean… University asks a lot more of you than high school. Work you do while in the university, you take that with you during your career. If I learn something wrong now, I’ll take that with me all my live, what will have a massive effect on others, since I’m going to be a lawyer.’ 

‘Yeah, and the guy who’s going to dig the next metro isn’t important to others.’ 

‘He is, but in a different way,’ Enjolras said, a bit helpless. 

‘You mean, he won’t make millions with his work,’ Raphael nodded. ‘Even though, if he does his work wrong… Hey, even my work is important sometimes.’ 

Enjolras stared at him blank. ‘Sometimes people feel lonely or depressed and they come to us,’ Raphael explained. ‘To cheer them up, or distract them, or just for attention.’ 

‘What will affect one person,’ Enjolras nodded. ‘Maybe two if they’re married.’ 

‘What if just a few whispered words keep somebody from hitting their wife, falling out to somebody, or even killing himself.’ The look in those green eyes was challenging, as if he was daring Enjolras to speak against him. A small grin on his soft but broken lips. 

‘Alright, so maybe it will affect a few more,’ he gave in. 

‘What if that person was into politics.’ Now he clearly was grinning. Enjolras frowned. 

‘You’re saying you had one of our politic leaders as a customer,’ he said skeptical. 

‘Maybe even more than a customer. Maybe we used to be lovers.’ He wiggled his eyebrows and leaned forward. Automatically, Enjolras leaned back. 

‘Now you’re pushing it.’ 

‘Am I? Anyway, all I’m saying is that everybody can make a huge difference without realizing it. I can, but so can a shop worker, a gab driver, a nice old lady, anybody. The difference between us is that you realize you’re making a difference and I’m not getting paid for it.’ 

Enjolras looked at him for a long time. Raphael just finished his coffee and got up. ‘I’m off. Thanks for the food, Apollo. I’ll let you get back to your University Work and World Changing Business.’ 

‘No thanks,’ Enjolras managed to mumble before the door of the café closed behind green sneakers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, about the university bit, I understood school systems are different in other countries. I am for instance not in university but one grade below, but in the States I would be in university? Accoording to my cousin, she tried to explain it ones but we couldnt get clear out of it. She's not Dutch and I'm not American. Anyway, here university is the highest grade, you need the highest education you can get to get in, and all universities have the same quality. No shit about graduating in one being better than the other. But it is true you should never call university school, arrogant fucks they are... 
> 
> Any remarks about the story or my English, please tell! Or anything else you'd like to tell me :) Always welcome. Love you all!


	5. The fever, part 1.

It was easy to completely forgive his friends for his poor birthday present when they got him something much better in December: a new website. It looked ten times better than the previous and most importantly, it worked. They had never had this much reaction to their writing and it made the end of the year an even more stressful period of time. It wasn’t until the evening after finals that his friends finally got him to go out again. Or, Combeferre kind of forced him, with the help of the others and a few well-placed threats. They all had dinner together (Enjolras payed of course, no such thing as a Dutch treatment here) before getting to a small café near the Dam square because most of them were planning on going out afterwards. Money wasn’t there problem and Courfeyrac had decided where to go. It was on moments like these that Enjolras sat to look at his group of friends and wondered how he could have ever done without them. 

A year ago, Enjolras only had two friends. There was his best friend and roommate Combeferre who he had met even before going to preschool because their parents had been friends. Often they joked Combeferre had only became such a nerd for spending too much time with Enjolras, who had been obsessed with justice and what else since he was old enough to notice not everybody lives in an old family house where there were still doors in every room for the servants to come in through, with secret stairs and hallways in between the walls and of course, a canal house in Amsterdam as well. He had loved and he had hated growing up there. Combeferre was a nobility as well, but in a lower circle than Enjolras family and his family had lost most their money, living now a few towns apart from Enjolras’ land house. They had insisted in going to school together and together they had moved to Amsterdam, where they had met their second friend. 

Different from the other two, Courfeyrac didn’t look like a nerd and didn’t act like one either. He was a social butterfly and had found the two friends through an article they had written for the student newspaper about the education of gay rights in pre-school. He send Enjolras a long email complaining about growing up in a small town where nobody had even heard of the word gay, except as a swear word of course. They had agreed to meet up to discuss this and some other issues some more. Because all three of them were from rich families or, in Combeferre’s case, families that used to be rich, that had a certain understanding for each other. Especially since all of them hated the money, or at least in a way. Enjolras hated his family, he was proud to admit it. Courfeyrac loved being the rich guy who could pay for everybody’s drinks. He was in one of those rich people fraternity’s with just white people drinking expensive whiskey. One ‘my father and grandfather were members as well’ exclusive club. And he loved it, something Enjolras and Combeferre certainly didn’t understand. Enjolras didn’t understand the fun of walking around in old fashion suits with top heads and drinking for sport. Even so, the three of them ended up hanging out every once and a while, complaining about things together. That was probably the first thing they had in common, their annoyance towards the world and society. Because of busy university work (and fraternity and every other party Courfeyrac came across), they sticked with complaining until they came across Joly. 

Joly was a happy fellow who followed classes with Combeferre. They had never really spoken until Joly got into class late one day, resting heavily on two crutches and looking a bit pale from too much walking. Turned out, even in a city like Amsterdam, there were hardly any elevators in university buildings. And the elevator that was in their building needed a key. Guess where to get that key? Right, on the second floor. Combeferre took him to Enjolras and Courfeyrac and the four of them wrote a long and rather good article about the difficulties of studying with a disability and send it to the university. The head of medical school wrote them back, complimenting them on their clear and convincing writing. It was Joly’s idea to start a blog. 

From three friends complaining about injustice, soon they were a group of six writing about it. Feuilly had been one of the first people to find their blog and had joined them, giving them a different and fascinating point of view from somebody who was trying to get at least some education while working to also not starve. Despite his odd and long hours, he was a good addition to their group. Feuilly brought Bahorel. It took several weeks to convince Enjolras that the loud, muscular man was actually interested in their work. Turned out, he had studied law for two years at the university, but had decided to switch to a lower form of education to be a social worker. He was angry at the law but liked being able to help others. He had a lot of good contacts and knew his way around people, giving them the opportunity to interviews of great value. 

For Enjolras, writing the blog was just a way to express his strong believes without facing bad grates in class when writing too much about it in papers he needed to hand in. Now he could speak for those who needed a voice, those too low or unnoticed in society to be of anybody’s concern but theirs. They were the friends of the lowered, the abased. Les Amis de l’ABC grew out to a well red website. Through the student newspaper of their university, they got enough readers to feel heard. Still, with just a few students reading about their ideas and believes nothing seemed to change. Amsterdam was a very old city and they were young. 

It was one of the first times Jehan had joined them on a, by Courfeyrac called, celebration night. And he had been very annoying. Even before dinner, he had taken something making him extremely giggly. It made Enjolras nervous to think of what could happen when people did drugs and it had clearly been on Joly’s mind as well. The other four men didn’t seem to mind very much though, what annoyed Enjolras even more. On their way from the restaurant to the café, Combeferre had taken him apart and told him that Jehan knew very well what he was doing and that they had two med students in their group, surely if something were to happen indeed, they would know how to handle the situation. Enjolras let himself be convinced and felt more cheerful when they arrived in the café. That was until Jehan took all Feuilly’s attention away. It wasn’t that he was jealous, it was completely Feuilly’s own choice who to spend time with, but Enjolras had hoped to discuss some urgent things with him. It was so rarely the other man took a whole night off; they should make use of it. 

That was how Enjolras ended up sitting at one side of the table, looking at Feuilly and Jehan with a frown. Joly was talking soft with Combeferre, looking happy but at the same time incredibly nervous. His right hand kept tapping the table and he had a twitch in his face. Bahorel placed a hand on Enjolras shoulder, making him look up. 

‘Let them have fun for tonight,’ he advised him not unkind. 

‘It seems like a waste of time,’ Enjolras said frowning. ‘It is so rarely all of us are together, and look how we’re using the time.’ 

‘Do they look like they want to talk politics right now?’ Bahorel pointed out. 

‘Of course they do! Why else would they be in this group. I thought this was a group of shared ideals and the conviction to do the good things and help this society to more equality, give people the same rights and same chances-‘ 

‘No need to lecture me,’ Bahorel laughed. ‘I know about your ideals and I admire them. But not tonight. Tonight, we celebrate.’ 

‘Celebrate what?’ Enjolras snorted. 

‘We celebrate-‘ But he never got the change to explain what he celebrated when Jehan jumped up with a shout. 

‘He made it! He actually came!’ he said, voice filled with so much joy, it was hard to believe it wasn’t the drugs speaking. Enjolras turned around to face the window and dark street behind him. In the light of the street lights, there was a small figure hidden in a hoody. Raphael took a step back when all eyes suddenly were on him. 

‘Come in, R!’ Jehan called happy. 

‘I don’t believe he can hear you through the glass,’ Courfeyrac laughed, getting up to walk to the front of the shop to let the man in. Enjolras followed him with his eyes and frowned when Raphael stepped through the door Courfeyrac held open for him. He seemed to be shivering and even from this distance he looked pale. It wasn’t that cold outside, Amsterdam normally didn’t get more than a few cold days in January. And cold days were days where it was below zero in the afternoon. Now it was evening, nearly night and the temperature hadn’t reached such a low. Even so, without a proper coat, it could of course be rather cold. The man with the black curls almost fall over when Jehan threw himself in his arms. He hold his friend in his arms but kept talking to Courfeyrac, who was looking more serious than Enjolras had seen him since his last exam Wednesday. He looked around to Combeferre, who had also been watching the trio with growing interest and concern. They shared a knowing look. 

‘Hey, is that the guy Jehan can’t stop talking about?’ Feuilly asked, leaning back in the couch he was sitting on, a beer lazy in his hand. 

‘Let me see, the old jeans and beany certainly indicate hipster,’ Bahorel chuckled. ‘Together with ‘‘unruly curls that make him look few centimeters taller’’-‘ he managed to do a rather good impression of Jehans dreamy voice. ‘Certainly is him.’ 

‘We can’t be sure until he won a drinking contest,’ Joly laughed. ‘I want to see him dance on the bar.’ 

‘Maybe some other time,’ Courfeyrac said when arriving back at their table, the two other men followed behind him. It took some effort from Raphael to help his stoned friend back to his seat. Feuilly got up to help him and took Jehan from him. 

‘Thanks,’ Raphael mumbled. From closer, Enjolras could see the bags under his red eyes, making him look younger than he was and very vulnerable. 

‘This is Grantaire,’ Courfeyrac introduced him to the group. ‘He has something to ask.’ At this, all eyes turned to the named man, making him take a step back. Nervously he played with his sleeves. 

‘I…’ he started hesitating. ‘Jehan said some of you were studying meds…’ 

‘That’s right,’ Combeferre nodded. ‘Joly and I do. Can we help you with something?’ 

‘Not really me,’ Raphael said quickly. ‘But, some of my… friends got sick. They don’t really have insurance or something so they refuse to go see a doctor. But Lisa, one of them, she got all these nasty spots on her skin and we think it might be something serious, but we don’t know for sure,’ he explained, taking up the glass of pink flued Jehan had been drinking and where Enjolras didn’t have a name for. He threw it back in one go. 

‘I’m not sure we would know much more of it,’ Combeferre said apologizing in a voice that Enjolras recognized as his business voice. Calm, polite but also very serious and to the point. Raphael laughed without humor. 

‘You would. I don’t get much farther from ‘’stay in bed’’ when people get sick. But I get it if you don’t want to come, I thought, why not try.’ Raphael looked at the table with a look that might be hopeless, or perhaps he was just eying Courfeyrac’s drink as well. 

‘Is it just this one girl who is sick?’ Joly asked him, getting up and putting on his warm coat. ‘Or are there more?’ 

‘Few more,’ Raphael said, looking at them with big eyes from unbelieve when they actually got up. ‘But it’s just Lisa I’m worried about. And you just have to tell me if she is or isn’t sick enough to take to a doctor.’ 

‘I’ll come along as well.’ Enjolras was both surprised by his own words and not at all. He knew nothing of sick people, he didn’t even notice it when sick himself. But something in him was curious, a terrible feeling. He had nothing to do there, nothing to contribute, and still he wanted to come. He better came up with a good excuse. ‘I didn’t want to stay much longer anyway.’ Nailed it. 

‘How did you get here?’ Combeferre asked Raphael, very pointedly ignoring Enjolras. 

‘Tram,’ Raphael said. ‘But if you got bikes, I can run along, I got good shoes.’ He looked at Enjolras when saying that, just for a short moment. 

‘Enjolras can drive you,’ Combeferre told him, who already had Joly on his own bike. Enjolras frowned slightly at that but didn’t comment. He put on his coat and left glove. With his right hand he searched for his keys in his pockets while they walked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Dam square is like the center of Amsterdam, the canals are placed around it. Or the Dam was placed in the middle of the canals, I'm not sure. Go to google maps if you're interested, the map of Amsterdam is rather great.   
> Anything you'd like me to explain, please tell me and I'll try for sure! 
> 
> Or anything else you'd like to say, I love'd love to hear from you :) 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	6. The fever, part two

Grantaire found it was surprisingly comfortable to sit behind Enjolras on his bike. It helped the man had a decent bike, well maintained and it didn’t shake terribly every time he pushed his feet against the pedal. Of course he mostly had station bikes, like Eponine’s ‘death on wheels’, to compare with. Only rich people, stupid people, or people with enough room in the kitchen to store bikes, bought expensive and good ones. In a big city they got damaged or stolen too quickly. Best way to prevent it was to make sure nobody wanted to steal your bike in the first place. Those were the station bikes, already in such poor condition the owner didn’t mind leaving it behind in one of the massive bike-parking places that every respectable station had. Something else lots of people did was paint their bikes a really bright colour so it was easy to recognize. It helped when trying to find your bike after parking it, but it also helped against it getting stolen. Setting out an alert for a black bike would give you nothing, it’s like looking for a needle in a haystack. But a bright pink bike with reflecting orange spots… They can always paint it over of course, but it helped. A bit. 

New students who came to live in a town to be close to their school or university normally left their good bikes in their, probably smaller and saver, home town and bought a cheap, and probably stolen, station bike to move around the bigger city. Or they used the public transportation that was free for students. Losing a bike like that wasn’t such a big deal, losing a good bike you were attached to though… but maybe rich people don’t get attached to their bikes as most Dutch people did, Grantaire thought. He surely had never had a decent bike like this. After his last one had gotten lost after a wild evening out, he had just gone everywhere by foot and metro. Even in his old home town in Twente, he had never had a bike like the one he was riding on now. 

Even though the bike was good and solid, it still twitched a bit when Enjolras drove over another bridge and Grantaire moved his hands in reflex from where he had been holding the cold metal to Enjolras coat, hoping he wouldn’t mind. It was always a big awkward to guess if it would be alright to hold onto somebody. But it surely made keeping his balance a lot easier and the bike was way too cold under his freezing fingers anyway. Biking was faster, but the metro was warmer. 

‘Where to now?’ Combeferre asked, coming to drive next to them once they had left the busy center of town. 

‘Left,’ Grantaire said and coughed when cold air entered his lungs. ‘Till the old School of Amsterdam building.’ He guessed Combeferrre was well enough educated in art to recognize this certain type of architecture that was so typical for the city. Combeferre nodded that he knew indeed and gave Enjolras more clear directions where to drive, making sure the other man didn’t end up on a metro line or even the pavement. Grantaire started to suspect Enjolras had a terrible sense of direction. 

He gave them the directions to a horrible apartment building from the 70’s in one of the more shitty parts of Amsterdam. Nobody commented when Grantaire told them they had arrived. Even his voice shivered by now. He tried to hide deeper in his sweater when he rang the bell of the third floor. A few awkward minutes long they stood in silence. 

‘Shit, I forgot,’ Grantaire said shocked, turning to Joly with an apologizing face. ‘There is no elevator.’ 

‘Don’t worry, I can do stairs,’ Joly smiled kind just as the door opened. 

‘Raphael,’ a very blond female said. Her hair was up in a high pony tail and she was wearing a pink shirt that was so loose, it dropped over one shoulder. ‘Are these your students?’ 

‘Yeah, they wanted to help,’ Grantaire said nervous, putting his hands deeper in his pockets as he started to doubt his decision to bring them here. 

‘Miriam will be furious at you,’ she warned as she stood aside to let them in. Grantaire ignored being polite and stepped in first to get out of the cold wind. 

‘Good thing she’s too sick to notice much,’ he joked lightly, signing the others to come in too. The young woman had already gone back up and Grantaire was hesitating between following her and waiting for Joly, who started to climb the stairs. Slowly… Very slowly… Grantaire bite his lip nervous. 

Apparently Enjolras got his desperate look because he placed Joly’s arm around his shoulders and started helping him climb faster. 

‘Go ahead, we’ll cat up later,’ Joly ensured them. 

‘Come,’ Combeferre said when Grantaire was still hesitating and took his arm to tug him upstairs. 

‘I should probably warn you,’ Grantaire thought while hurrying himself up the stairs to keep up with the man who was almost a head taller than himself. ‘It’s nothing like your place.’ 

‘Because of course I had been expecting such an apartment in a building like this,’ Combeferre said, but he didn’t sound unkind and his smile made sure he didn’t mean bad with it. It did help Grantaire to relax a bit, though it was hardly to notice since he was still shivering from cold. For a moment he thought bringing them was a good decision after all. That feeling disappeared when he opened the front door at the top of the stairs and the smell of vomit hit them in the face. 

 

By the time Joly entered the third floor, Combeferre had already started giving cleaning orders to a few girls and had disappeared in to a room to see the girl Grantaire had been concerned about. He called for Joly soon as the front door opened. Enjolras was left on his own in a strange hallway. It was dark and smelled disgusting like vomit and cigarettes. Avoiding the air was impossible as he walked in, but he did try to avoid the dirty places on the stone floor. Another woman passed him with a bucket, just barely giving him a look in greeting. Enjolras walked through the hallway towards the only opened door and almost bumped into Raphael when stepping into what was seemingly the kitchen. A third woman was sitting at a plastic table, leaning her head on her hands while the girl with the pink shirt was searching through the kitchen cabinets. 

‘Oh, sorry,’ Raphael said, quickly stepping back as if only touching him had hurt him. 

‘What can I do?’ Enjolras kind of bursted out, wanting desperately not to stand in the way of people who actually seemed to know why they were there but help out in any way possible. 

‘Well… Your friend… what was his name?’ Raphael said unsure. 

‘Combeferre? 

‘Combeferre said to clean up, open the windows and turn up the heat. What sounded a bit of a waste of heat, but…’ Raphael fiddled with the sleeves of his sweater, his hands still shivering. 

‘Give me a bucket and tell me what to clean,’ Enjolras stated, trying to sound more sure of himself than he felt. 

‘Bathroom!’ the girl in pink said directly, clearly a bit too happy he had offered. ‘Definitely the bathroom.’ 

Raphael made a disgusted face at that. ‘No, I’ll do the bathroom, perhaps you could start with the kitchen…’ 

‘Don’t worry about me,’ Enjolras said, taking the bucket the girl was offering him. She was grinning wide. 

‘If you so insist on getting it cleaned, at least go help him,’ Grantaire told her.   
‘I’ll show you to the bathroom,’ the girl said cheerful, leading him out of the kitchen. Apart from the room they had just left and the bathroom next to the front door, there were three other doors, most voices coming out of the room at the far end of the hallway. 

‘There you go,’ she said, triumphantly opening a door for him. Next to being disgusting, the bathroom was one big mess. There were lady products everywhere and the sour smell made clear the spots in the hallway had happened on the way to the bathroom. The toilet surely looked like it had seen better days. There was no window in the small room and the light they had turned on took it’s time to warm up. In an attempt to get rid of at least a bit of the smell, Enjolras just opened the door as far as possible and started cleaning up. He as very good at keeping things neat and organized. However, he had zero experience with cleaning. Even in his own apartment, his parents had hired a lady to come around every week and clean up the place. Thereby, he had never seen anything this disgusting. He didn’t give himself time to be shocked and distracted himself by throwing himself on the job before him, figuring he couldn’t possibly make it worse anyway. 

‘Who are you guys anyway?’ the girl in the pink shirt asked, leaning against the door frame. 

‘We are…’ Friends of Raphael? Probably not, the man didn’t even know Combeferre’s name. ‘We know Raphael.’ 

‘You know him? And you’re cleaning out three years of dirt for somebody you just know.’ 

Enjolras looked at all the toiletries he had taken up and tried to figure out what to do with them. He decided to just put them all in the bath to make some space to clean first before putting them on the shelfs. 

‘Well, yeah. He asked. And I like to help.’ 

‘Are you with the church?’ 

‘Eh, no, definitely not. We’re a group of friend and we like to help people who need it,’ he tried to explain without getting political. ‘We call ourselves Les Amis de l’ABC. We have a website?’ 

‘Cool,’ she said not impressed. ‘So, what kind of things do you do?’ Enjolras had a strong feeling she was checking out his ass as he was leaning down to pick up more bottles. 

‘We eh… write articles?’ 

‘… Right. I guess that is very useful indeed.’ 

‘We also support lots of charity. And we have helped organize a few protests.’ 

‘And now you’re cleaning out a bathroom. Business must be doing poorly. Unlike yourself, you are very clearly not poor. I wonder where R met somebody like you. Oh wait, I know!’ she said, faking excitement. 

‘Look, he asked for help and here I am,’ Enjolras said, starting to feel both nervous and annoyed by her way of making conversation. 

‘Have you asked for anything in return yet, or is that yet to come?’ 

‘Are you actually going to help me or just stand there making assumptions?’ 

She raised her hands at his harsh tune. ‘Alright, fine. Sorry for being curious.’ She stepped in and actually started helping him by collecting the empty or too dirty to use products in a garbage bag. ‘I’m Eva by the way.’ 

‘Enjolras.’ 

‘Tell me, Enjolras, what do you use to make your hair shine like that?’ she said curious, glancing at it in the dim light. 

‘… I wash it.’ 

 

During the hour where Enjolras and Eva cleaned together, four times somebody came in to puke in the toilet or give them buckets to clean out. Combeferre left with the girl Lisa to get her to the First Aid at the hospital and Joly made his way around the apartment to check on the other woman who were present. So far Enjolras had counted five woman till the door opposite of the bathroom opened and a slightly older woman wrapped in a blanket came walking out. She clearly had the same fever as the others, red chees and a running nose, but her eyes were big with anger, making her look rather scary anyway. Eva made a sound somewhere between excitement and fear, quickly getting to the door to peak into the hallway. Enjolras didn’t need to see to know what was happening. Even before she had reached the kitchen, she started talking in really fast and angry French. Even after his six years of French class in high school and the privet lessons his father had arranged for him, Enjolras could only understand a few words of what they were saying. Her speaking a dialect didn’t make it easier. What he knew for sure was that she wasn’t happy. 

‘Ugh, I wish they would just speak Dutch,’ Eva sighed when they could hear Raphael respond in the same dialect of French. 

‘Is that… The woman you spoke about?’ 

‘Miriam, yes. I had hoped she would just sleep through it.’ 

Enjolras gave a nod and walked past her to go check it out. Joly entered the kitchen with him, what made the whole place rather crowded. Miriam was still talking to an annoyed and tired looking Raphael who was still cleaning the kitchen so he didn’t have to look at her. 

‘Excuse me,’ Enjolras said loud, actually making the woman look up and keep her mouth shut for a moment. She seemed to just notice them the moment he spoke up and clearly wasn’t pleased with their presence. ‘I believe this conversation is at least partly about us.’ 

‘She’s upset because you send Lisa away and now she’ll have a reason not to work next week while ‘’It was just flue,’ Raphael translated, taking a bottle of wine of the table and put it at his lips to take a long sip. 

‘What are you talking, you don’t live here,’ Miriam told him with a harsh French accent. 

‘Grantaire asked us to help because he knew we could,’ Joly said, stepping forward and offering her his hand as greeting. Rather an offer from Joly, Enjolras knew. Maybe it was lucky she just looked at it without accepting. ‘My name is Joly, I study medicine,’ he said brave. 

‘Well, good for you,’ she said not impressed while looking him over. 

‘This is also in your interest, they’re helping ever body get better as quickly as possible, so you can go back to making money over them.’ That got Raphael a smack across his face, he didn’t even look surprised by it. That in contrast to Enjolras who stepped forward instantly. ‘Madame, we’re here to help you clean up the house because we understand it’s difficult to keep that up when you’re feeling poorly,’ he tried. 

‘C’mon, Miriam, let them stay for now?’ a girl said from where she was glancing in from the doorway. ‘The guy just offered to make us dinner. And be honest, if he doesn’t we’re all eating bisques.’ Enjolras glanced at his watch to find out it was past midnight, making it a bit late for dinner but still a smart move from Joly. A good meal could work miracles. 

‘You come here interfering with our business,’ Miriam said, crossing her arms. ‘We don’t need charity and we don’t accept charity. I’ll let you cook the meal, for the girls. But then you’re out and I don’t ever want to see you around here anymore! Do you hear?’ 

Joly gave a quick nod. ‘Loud and clear. We’ll be quick and gone.’ 

‘Good. And you can take this debile with you. You-‘ she moved back to French when looking at Raphael but stopped when she had to cough hard. The girl in the doorway now walked in to bring her back to the room she came out of. 

‘Well, I guess we better start with that dinner,’ Joly chuckled nervous when she was gone. ‘Is there a late night shop nearby?’ 

‘Yeah, just around the corner. If you tell me what to buy, I’ll go. Though… If you could borrow me some money.’ 

‘Nonsense, Enjolras will go,’ Joly said, looking around for a pen and paper to make a list. ‘And you, my dear Grantaire, are going to find a warm sweater or coat and sit in that chair right there till you feel warm.’ 

‘If you want to cook here, it should be cleaned more.’ 

‘A sweater. That chair.’ 

 

With the falling of then night, the streets had become colder again and despite his warm coat, Enjolras was happy to reach the apartment building again. The shop had still been open and with some help from the manager to decrypt Joly’s handwriting, he had gotten about everything and possibly too much. 

Eva opened the door again and helped him carry the heavy bags upstairs. ‘Are you really going to cook midnight soup?’ she chuckled while trying to hold her balance up the stairs. 

‘Joly is, I suck at cooking.’ 

‘Can you make a tostie, a grilled sandwich?’ 

Enjolras looked at her in total confusion and took a moment of silent climbing to answer. ‘If you mean, bread with cheese under a grill…’ 

‘Then you can cook,’ she decided smiling. 

Back in the kitchen they found Joly had kept his word because Raphael was sitting in a chair wrapped in a blanket and nearly asleep with his head resting against the wall, though he looked up when they entered. Joly had already started getting the cooking equipment ready and smiled when Enjolras entered, because of course Joly would be happy in the middle of the night in a house full of strangers who were sick with flue. 

‘Good! You can start with cutting up the veggies. Grantaire was just telling me he used to study art.’ 

‘Really?’ Enjolras said, both impressed and surprised while putting the bags down. 

‘No, I didn’t,’ Raphael said annoyed. ‘Joly asked about school, I said I supplied and they accepted me. But I never went, so I didn’t study art or anything.’ 

‘Why didn’t you go?’ Joly asked, not minding his tune and almost dancing around the kitchen to cook. 

Raphael shrugged and placed his feet in the chair with him, hugging his knees to his chest. ‘Art is fun, but… Even if I’d finished high school… And studying is expensive.’ 

‘You could put up a study loan? You only have to pay back in 30 years and it’s free.’ 

‘Yeah, I know. But what’s the difference between having no money now and having no money in 30 years.’ 

‘You’d have an education,’ Enjolras pointed out. 

‘It’s art, golden boy. That hardly counts as an education. Thereby, the whole school was filled with rich, white people who never have to worry about actually getting a job. who can just be ‘an artist’ as a way of living without having to make money out of it. No, I’ll just work and play artist when I have time to spare. What is never. Thereby, I never told them I couldn’t read, so they’d have kicked me out after a week anyway.’ 

‘You- what?’ Joly asked shocked, almost dropping the pan he had found in a cabinet. 

‘I never graduated, so I couldn’t study anyway,’ Raphael moved on, ignoring Joly and picking up the wine again. ‘I’d have to finish school first, but it’s been years and I don’t remember shit about it. And I’ve not been reading either, so that’s gone too and I always sucked at it terribly anyway, so, that.’ He lifted the bottle and had a drink. 

‘Grantaire…’ Joly started with pity in his voice, but the man waved it away. 

‘’s fine. I’ll just do this… Two more years I guess, till-‘ he started coughing. Joly went to him and took the bottle away. 

‘You’re sick and a bit drunk, so you don’t know what you’re saying. If you’re really that bad at reading, I’ll help you. I’ll help you get better at that and get better from being sick. I’ll do it all.’ 

‘’m Not sick,’ Raphael protested, rubbing his eyes. 

‘Sure,’ Joly nodded, getting him a glass of water and placing it on the table next to him. ‘I’ll still help you.’ Joly looked him in the eyes for a moment till Raphael looked down and stayed silent. They returned to the process of making soup in silence. Eva, who had been listening in from the doorway, silently got in. With a lot of help from her and just a tiny bit from Enjolras, Joly slowly made the kitchen and later the whole apartment smell like delicious soup. While cooking, Combeferre got back with Lisa and brought her back to her room. Raphael seemed to have fallen asleep in his chair, the glass of water empty now. Sitting with him, Enjolras carefully touched his shoulder. The man startled awake, looking at Enjolras with his big green eyes. For a moment, Enjolras could just look at him. The dangerous look he remembered from the first time they met was gone. What remained was honesty. Up close, it was clear the man was more sick than he had let on. 

‘What?’ Raphael said, moving back in his chair as if to get away from Enjolras.   
‘I eh, I brought you soup,’ Enjolras said, looking away to get out of the trance that was the man’s face. He presented him a cup filled with soup, by a lack of bowls they had just used this. 

‘Oh. Thanks, I guess. Does that mean you’re leaving?’ 

Enjolras looked back at where Joly was chatting with a few girls. ‘In a moment, yes. I was meaning to ask you, do you want me to bring you home?’ 

Raphael let out a humorless laugh as he picked up the spoon to start on his soup. 

‘Definitely not. No, not because of you,’ he added quickly when seeing the hurt look on Enjolras face. ‘Just not planning on going home.’ 

‘When where will you go?’ 

‘How late is it?’ 

Enooras checked his watch, birthday present from his father and he hoped it would break soon. What was unlikely for what it might have cost. ‘Past one.’ 

Raphael groaned. ‘Pony’s gonna kill me,’ he muttered. 

‘I can ask Joly to drop you off in the taxi, it’s waiting outside.’ 

‘No, I can walk, it’s not that far.’ 

‘You’ll get cold.’ 

‘You can’t reach it by car anyway,’ Raphael said. Enjolras noticed his hand was shaking slightly as he was handling the spoon to eat small amounts of soup. ‘Unless it’s raining. Is it raining? If feels like it’s raining.’ 

‘Eh… Far as I know it isn’t,’ Enjolras said confused, frowning a bit. 

‘Wait till we’re outside and somebody says, ‘’well, this surely can’t get any worse’’,’ Raphael foretold, imitation an old man’s voice. 

‘This all feels too real to be a movie clishee,’ Enjolras chuckled soft, making Raphael smile a bit. He was just a bit too happy about that. 

‘We should go before Mariam wakes up again though,’ he said, breaking the small moment. Enjolras nodded and got up. Soon as they finished handing out soup and making a last check on everybody, the three visitors started to get ready to leave. 

‘Grantaire, somewhere I can drop you off?’ Joly asked as he put on his coat. But Raphael shook his head again. 

‘I’ll walk, it’s fine.’ 

Enjolras wished he could go with Joly in the cab as they stepped out of the apartment where it was already a lot colder than inside. But leaving his bike would mean he had to pick it up in the morning and take the change it would still be there. He didn’t feel like taking that change either. When they made their way down, very slowly because of Joly, and opened the front door, cold wind hit them in the face, making them all shiver. Enjolras had already moved to his bike, searching through his pockets for his keys, when behind him Joly let out a shocked, short scream. When he turned, he could just see Raphael slamming into the pavement. Combeferre cursed under his breath and was with him in a heartbeat. 

‘What happened?’ Enjolras said shocked and confused, staring at the black curls covering part of the stones. 

‘Feel his hands,’ Joly said soft to Combeferre who was kneeling down at the other side of the unconscious man. Combeferre nodded and felt his forehead as well before checking his heartbeat. Enjolras didn’t know anything about sick people and medicine, but he knew all about the concerned look at his friends face. 

‘Enjolras, did you clean out the spare room? We have a guest coming to stay for a few days.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I started writing this ages ago because I was interested in how it would turn out. And when I thought the first chapter was kinda nice, I posted it here. Also ages ago. Now, 6 chapters later, I finally have an idea where this story is going! ;) I hope this summer I'll have some time and inspiration to write. 
> 
> If you liked it, please let me know, I'd love to hear from somebody instead of just seeing those terrifying notes that tell me how many times somebody clicked on my work. Also, if there are any mistakes (I'm sure there are many) in my English, feel free to tell me as well. 
> 
> I switched pov halfway through cause I found it easier to write it like this, hope you don't mind. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! It feels amazing and, again, terrifying to show the world something I wrote.   
> Love,


	7. House guests and fish. Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you had such a great holiday I had! I've actually been writing in the sun last few days, rather spectacular for the Netherlands. Though it's always a bit strange to write about winter during summer, or the other way around. 
> 
> Look forward for some Grantaire/Combeferre here. It's a long chapter I haven't finished completely yet, so I decided to split it, again. It's just my preference to read smaller chapters. And I didn't want to keep you waiting much longer! Enjoy! 
> 
> Love, 
> 
> (Next chapter will include some more Amis, pizza, beer and a Courfeyrac covered in glitters)

When Grantaire woke up, he was left in confusion even before he had opened his eyes. If he had been sleeping in his own basement room, there would have been no light at all by lack of windows. And if this were Eponine’s room, he would have been bathing in sunlight by lack of curtains. If didn’t smell like her room either because this room smelled kinda nice. Clean. The only bad smell was coming from his own hair. So that ruled out Jehans smoked up rooms as well. His head was aching and his muscles were in pain, even though the bed was extremely soft and comfortable. Still, he had no idea where he was. His mother had always told him to follow his footsteps if he’d lost something, again. But the last thing he remembered was having a drink with Mont. Thinking of the softness of the bed and the nice smell, it suddenly hit him. He had fallen asleep at a client’s house. He shot up right because it was known to be one of the biggest mistakes in his profession, to fall asleep somewhere unfamiliar. Could be very dangerous, if you believed Mont. And in this, he did. He groaned when his head disagreed at the movement and for a moment he was afraid the world would go dark again. Luckily the feeling slowly passed and he was able to have a look around the room. It was a single bed he was in, what was somewhat of a relief. On the chair next to the bed was a neat pile of clean clothes and a red jacket what seemed familiar but he couldn’t place where he’d seen it before. The recognition didn’t alarm him though, he took that as a good thing. Other than the bed and a small desk, the room was filled with bookcases. There were at least six of them, completely filled. Then there was a large box standing against the bit off wall that was still empty, the picture on front of it revealed it was a bookcase that was waiting to be put together. Next to it were three piles of books patiently waiting for their place in it. Being surrounded by this many books, Grantaire could rule out about every possibility of sleepover he had come up with so far. He decided the easiest way was to just go and check it out. 

As he swung his legs off the bed, spots appeared in front of his eyes once again and he wondered how drunk he must have been to achieve this state. His whole body seemed to be in pain and his stomach was upset. His arms were left bare by his shirt and the air now slowly made him feel cold. The bed made another protesting sound as he reached for the jacket. His arms were trembling as he put it over his shirt. Before he could get up, the door opened and familiar glasses looked his way. At that, it suddenly hit him. He remembered overstaying his welcome at Miriams till Lisa started to get sick and he went out at midnight through the rain and cold to get Jehans miracle friends. The glasses was the doctor one, what was his name again? Something with an otter he believed. 

‘Good, you’re awake,’ the man said kind, stepping into the room. 

‘Yeah… How again did I get here?’ Grantaire wondered, shocked at how weak his voice sounded and he realized how thirsty he was. 

‘When we left, you fainted and we took you here,’ the student explained. ‘You’ve mostly been sleeping since.’ 

‘Okay, so, is that like… a few hours or a day ago?’ Grantaire wondered, tugging the blankets back around him if they were going to sit here and talk anyway.   
‘You’ve been sleeping for one day.’ No wonder he was stiff. 

‘And… this is your house.’ 

‘Yes. I live here with Enjolras.’ 

‘Shit,’ Grantaire mumbled, moving to get up now. The man was with him directly to catch him as he almost fall over. ‘I… Okay, shit. Give me a moment, then I’ll be gone. It’s day, right?’ Eponine would not be home so he’d have to think of something else. Or try to sneak past his brother, though the reeking basement didn’t sound very promising at the moment. As if it ever did. 

‘It’s noon, and there’s no need to leave yet, honestly.’ 

‘Eh, yeah there is. I’ve been sleeping in your bed for over a day now and I don’t even recall your name.’ 

‘It’s Combeferre and this is not my bed, this is a spare room.’ Combeferre, Grantaire thought. Ferret. Otter. Close enough. 

‘Seems more like a library,’ Grantaire said, sitting back down on the bed before his knees would give out for good. Combeferre sat next to him and reached him a glass of water that had apparently been standing there without being noticed by him. Grantaire took it and noticed while drinking how bad his hands were shaking. 

‘How are you feeling?’ Combeferre asked, observing him like a true doctor. Grantaire just shrugged, not knowing how to answer that. 

‘Fine?’ he guessed though it wasn’t true and they both knew it. 

‘If you don’t want to tell me, you could just tell me that.’ 

‘It’s not… My head aches, but that’s not new. And it’s not the migraine like headache, so it’s not that bad,’ Grantaire thought. ‘I’d just like to know what I’ve been drinking so I won’t do it again.’ 

‘Is it alright if I feel your forehead?’ 

Grantaire shrugged again but regretted that when Combeferre placed his cold hand on his head. 

‘What is it, doctor?’ Grantaire tried to joke when seeing Combeferre’s serious face. ‘Am I going to survive? Will I ever play the piano again?’ 

‘Unless there’s something wrong with your hands…’ Combeferre said slightly confused. 

‘No, sorry. It’s a joke, it’s stupid.’ 

‘… okay. Well, you still have a high temperature so I recommend you stay in bed the next few days.’ Montparnasse would so not be pleased about this. ‘And since you fainted earlier, it would be good if there was somebody to look after you. Since you’re already here, I’m a medicine student and we don’t mind you using our spare room, I suggest you just stay here a bit longer.’ 

‘What about Enjolras?’ Grantaire asked, looking at the now empty glass with regret of having finished it this quick. 

‘What about him?’ 

‘Well… He lives here too, right?’ 

‘He does. But he likes to help, so I’m positive he won’t mind either.’ 

Grantaire took a breath, thinking he might as well sleep a bit longer in this comfortable bed instead of going out on the street and having to figure out a place to go that was at any change less good than this one. ‘Okay. But then, can you tell me where the bathroom is?’ 

‘Of course,’ Combeferre smiled, getting up and helping Grantaire up as well. His legs were still shaking and he was happy though a bit ashamed when Combeferre placed his arm around him for support. Though he looked nerdy, he sure as hell had strong arms, he could tell. 

‘Have you actually read all those books?’ Grantaire asked as they walked out of the room and through a small corridor. 

‘Either I or Enjolras did,’ he nodded. ‘There are only a few left unread. And most times we give those away to friends who would actually like to read them.’ 

‘Wow,’ Grantaire said impressed. ‘I have one book.’ 

‘Do tell?’ 

‘A colour book for kids. Jehan gave it to me for my birthday.’ 

Combeferre laughed at that and opened the bathroom door for him. ‘Will you be alright?’ 

‘Yeah, it’s fine.’ He could get his own pants down, thank you very much. ‘Thanks.’ Combeferre smiled again and left him to do his thing on his own. 

 

The next time Grantaire woke there was still light coming into the room so he guessed it couldn’t be more than a few hours later. He groaned soft as he untangled himself from his curled up position. His head wasn’t aching as badly as before but he still felt a bit faint. Next to the bed was a refilled glass of water and a note in a very neat handwriting. Grantaire recognized his own name at the beginning of it and something that was probably a phone number but didn’t attempt to read it any further. He sat up a bit and took the glass, this time drinking it slowly. It fall cold in his empty stomach and he spend half an hour under the blankets to get warm again. At the other side of the apartment, a door opened and he listened to the footsteps on the wooden floor of the living room. Apparently the person had taken off his shoes because when he walked through the hallway, he walked really soft. Grantaire looked up when there was a very soft knock on the door and Combeferre peaked in. ‘Oh, good, you’re awake,’ the man said. 

‘Did you leave the note?’ Grantaire asked him, his voice sounding a bit more steady already. 

‘I did, I had to go out and buy some things. I brought some for you too, since you didn’t have anything on you when you came to stay.’ He made it sound like Grantaire was a guest who was just spending a few days at their home. 

‘I… There was no need, I don’t really need anything,’ Grantaire said uncomfortable, sitting up in bed. Luckily, this time his head only protested slightly at the movement. 

‘That’s fine. How are you feeling?’ Combeferre sat at the other side of the bed and handed Grantaire a cotton roll bag because of course the man wouldn’t walk around with plastic. 

‘Bit better, I guess,’ Grantaire said, taking the bag and shaking it out over the quilt on the bed. He laughed soft when he saw what was in it. ‘Man, you didn’t have to buy me underwear.’ Next to boxers, there were toiletries in the bag and a few other things. 

‘Don’t worry about it, I buy Enjolras’ as well,’ Combeferre told him. ‘Can I feel your head again?’ 

Grantaire nodded and let him place a cold hand on his forehead again. This time he was more prepared for the temperature difference. ‘Do tell, what kind does he wear,’ he asked half joking and half curious. 

‘Red. Joly brought by some house made soup for you, would you like me to get you some?’ 

‘You don’t have to be my privet nurse, you know,’ Grantaire protested. ‘I can look after myself too, I’ve done plenty of times.’ 

‘I’m going to get you some,’ Combeferre decided, getting up. ‘I brought you some of our old clothes too, if you’d like to change.’ 

‘Are you telling me I smell?’ Grantaire chuckled. 

Combeferre looked back at him from the door opening. ‘Well, yes.’


	8. House guests and fish, part 2

Half an hour later, Grantaire found himself sitting on the couch in the living room, holding more of Joly’s warm soup in his hands. He hadn’t bothered to shower but had cleaned himself up a bit before looking through the clothes and picking out the most worn ones because they were the softest. He had the hoody of the red sweater over his head because it felt save and somehow smelled nice too. Pulling his bare feet up the couch with him, he looked over at Combeferre. Somehow the man didn’t seem distressed about having a total stranger in his house at all and even seemed to enjoy his presence. At the moment he was reading something on a tablet. Not Apple, he noticed. His own devices stopped after a prepaid cell phone with solitaire and a very old MP4 with about six complete CD’s on it, but he did know something about good devices and the reputation of Apple. He could remember Jehan having an argument with his mother about it but didn’t recall what they had been saying. 

‘So for this meeting tomorrow, is this tie too re-‘ Enjolras came walking out of what was probably his bedroom and stopped midsentence when seeing Grantaire. He was holding up a few different and mostly red ties over his neat clothing. His pants were a perfect fit, Grantaire couldn’t help but notice. They were tight enough to show off his fine legs but loose enough to wear to formal events. Too late he realized he had probably been staring at the man and mostly checking out his body when Combeferre broke the sudden silence. 

‘The lighter one. What do you think, Grantaire?’ 

Grantaire, who had been frozen for a moment, looked up confused and saw Combeferre had hardly looked up from his tablet while speaking. 

‘What tie?’ 

‘I don’t know…’ He fiddled with his sleeve, this decision somehow seemed really important. ‘Depends on where you’re going?’ 

‘Eh… I’m going to try for an internship tomorrow…’ Enjolras said slightly awkward.  
‘And… Do you want to fit in or stand out?’ 

Enjolras looked at the ties in his hands and picked the most red one. ‘How are you doing?’ he asked a bit unsure. 

‘I’m… a bit better?’ Grantaire said. ‘Thanks for letting me stay and all by the way.’  
Enjolras smiled at that. ‘Very welcome. Although it’s mostly been Combeferre to look after you.’ 

‘I guessed. But still, me sleeping in your personal library and all.’ 

‘I’m sure the books won’t mind.’ 

‘Hey, Grantaire, we’re going to have a few friends over tonight,’ Combeferre told him, finally looking up from his tablet. ‘To talk some things over for a meeting later this week.’ 

‘Oh, sure,’ Grantaire nodded. ‘I’ll be on my way if you-‘ 

‘No, I just meant to say you can borrow my tablet if you’d rather watch some tv in the library,’ Combeferre said smiling. 

‘You’ll need your tablet though,’ Enjolras said, sitting at the kitchen table and opening his laptop and notebook. ‘You can use the tv in my room.’ 

‘Eh, alright? I guess?’ Grantaire said. ‘If you’re sure…’ 

‘Ferre, have you typed out the correction of last meetings notes yet?’ 

‘Already send to you.’ 

Grantaire looked at both man quietly working in wonder. What he remembered from studying and working in high school was a lot of swearing and hair pulling. Jehan was either getting stoned, reading, reading stoned or typing while reading out loud when studying. These two seemed relaxed while typing and reading, clearly working hard without the smallest sign of stress. Grantaire found it was rather relaxing to just sit there and watch while eating his soup. Having something in his stomach did make him feel better and it made him a bit sleepy again. He didn’t realize how sleepy exactly till the doorbell shook him up. 

‘Open!’ Combeferre called and Joly appeared in the opening. 

‘Hey! Oh, hey Grantaire! You’re looking lots better,’ the man said happy. 

‘Thanks for the soup,’ Grantaire said, letting himself sink back in the couch after the shock of the doorbell. 

‘Yeah, it’s great right? I make it for everybody who’s sick. Bahorel and I work in a free kitchen every week and they’re a big fan of this recipe too.’ He walked over to the couch, using his stick and let himself fall next to Grantaire before taking off his coat. After him came a large man walking into the room, wearing a sport jacket. In his hand was a bag that made the promising sound of bottles. His skin was dark and his hair short. Grantaire made a mental note to himself not to get into a fight with this man. Vaguely he recalled seeing him at the bar where he had gone to find the others two nights ago. 

‘We beat Courf?’ he said, looking around the room. ‘That sucks, he was supposed to bring pizza.’ 

‘He must be here shortly,’ Combeferre thought. ‘Please tell me you didn’t bring shots.’ 

‘Pizza and beer, my man. And protest planning. What could go wrong. Hey, you’re Grantaire, right?’ the man said when his eyes skipped past him. He walked up to shake his hand. ‘Bahorel.’ His hands were as strong as his arms looked. 

‘Hey. Beer and pizza? Seems like I’m at the right party.’ 

Bahorel laughed loud at that and smacked his shoulder. ‘Great!’ Maybe the man wasn’t so dangerous after all. 

‘Though mostly this will be a work meeting,’ Enjolras reminded them. They all hummed a respond what mostly sounded like an agreement. Bahorel grinned and rolled his eyes only for Grantaire and Joly to see. Grantaire couldn’t help but chuckle at that. 

‘So, is this a secret meeting for the student group Jehan keeps talking about?’ he checked. 

‘Jep! Though not all of us are students,’ Joly said. ‘One, actually. One isn’t a student I mean.’ 

‘And one is Jehan, I’m not sure for how much you counted him,’ Grantaire added, making Bahorel laugh again. 

‘The kid’s great though,’ he thought. ‘Really good at voicing things. When not stoned.’ 

‘Well, hello!’ Courfeyrac called when stepping in as if it were a show and they had all been waiting for him to get on stage. ‘The Courfeyrac is in the house!’ 

‘Yeah, but did he bring pizza?’ Bahorel asked the important questions. 

‘Pizza will be brought at any moment now. But what do you guys think of my new pants?’ He made a dramatic turn to show them off, placing his hands on his hips and probably just showing his ass a bit too much. 

‘Are there glitters on that?’ Bahorel said, raising an eyebrow. 

‘There are! So good of you to notice, Relly! Isn’t it great? The world can never have enough glitters.’ 

‘If they fall off, you are the one to clean it,’ Combeferre warned him. 

‘Aww, don’t be a party pooper, Ferre. And you move Rel cause I want to finally officially meet my besties bestie.’ The man actually let himself fall in between Bahorel and Grantaire on the couch, more sitting on their laps than the couch, and placed an arm around their shoulders. ‘Hello again, aren’t you a cutie?’ 

‘Is he always like this?’ Courfeyrac ignored that and took his chin in one hand and moved Grantaire’s head a bit to both sides as if to check for something. There was something in his eyes that Grantaire couldn’t identify. For a moment he was afraid the man might hug or kiss him and he moved just a tiny bit away. Luckily he just smiled and ruffled his hair before he moved to Bahorels lap, placing his legs over Grantaire and Joly their legs to leave some more space between them.

‘Pretty much,’ Bahorel nodded, placing an arm around the man to steady him. 

‘I’m never boring, that’s for sure,’ Courfeyrac said happy. ‘But what’s up with you, heard you were sick?’ 

‘A bit,’ Grantaire shrugged it off. ‘But Joly made me soup, so I’m fine now.’ 

‘Oh my god, Joly always cooks amazing!’ Courfeyrac smiled. ‘You must taste his risotto someday. Oh! That must be the pizza!’ he said when the doorbell rang again. 

Bahorel pushed him off his lap. ‘Go get it,’ he told Courfeyrac who rolled on the floor. ‘Oh shit man, you got glitters all over my clothes, you wanker.’ 

‘You’re welcome!’ Courfeyrac sing songed while getting up and almost dancing to the door to get the pizza. The others all got up and walked to the kitchen area of the room, what surprised Grantaire who was left behind all the sudden. He watched the young man chat happily while cleaning up and plating the table to eat pizza. Grantaire looked at them in wonder. In his mind pizza was something to be eaten in front of a television with a bad movie on the background, not on a table while having conversations that actually led somewhere. But he couldn’t remember the last time he had actually sat down at a table to eat something and he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to share this meal with them either. Combeferre must have noticed because he signed him over to the table, directing him to a chair. There was a plate for him already. Not sure if to feel touched or awkward, Grantaire sat down with the others. 

‘You can leave any time you want,’ Combeferre reminded him. ‘I know these guys can be a bit much sometimes.’ 

‘I think I like them. So far,’ Grantaire thought. 

‘Jehan had said you would,’ Combeferre nodded smiling. 

A moment later, Grantaire found himself listening to a story about some guy on YouTube who had talked about some article Enjolras had written while eating small bites of pizza. He couldn’t help notice the way Enjolras eyes rested on him a bit too long when he accepted a beer from Bahorel, but he couldn’t really care right now. Earlier it hadn’t been so bad, but being this close to alcohol he couldn’t help but long for it. Even though he drank it much slower than he normally would, he still felt better with the taste of it in his mouth. It was interesting how the topic of conversation constantly shifted between serious and just fun and it made it easy for him to find his way in it and sometimes laugh and talk with them. 

When the pizza was about finished, Grantaire had only eaten one and a half before his stomach had started to protest, the conversation turned more serious and plates were cleaned to make room for laptops and papers. Grantaire moved his chair back. 

‘This will be my sign to leave,’ he thought. 

‘I’ll show you to my room,’ Enjolras thought, getting up as well. They all waved and Courfeyrac blew him a kiss as they walked away from the table. Enjolras opened the first door in the small hallway and Grantaire could just hear Joly say ‘what a nice guy’ before he closed it behind them. The room was rather big and contained next to a king sized bed and a large desk two more bookcases. It was clean and neat, but not cold and sad like the neat house Grantaire grew up in. That probably had to do with the fair amount of red stuff around the room. 

‘Well, I definitely guessed your favorite colour right,’ Grantaire thought when looking around. Enjolras let out a short laugh. 

‘Combeferre wouldn’t let me decide about the colours of the shared spaces, so I guess I made up for it in here. You can sit on my bed if you want to watch tv.’ 

‘Can I ask why you have a tv in your room anyway?’ Grantaire asked as he made himself comfortable on the soft bed, arranging the pillows in his back. 

‘You can. It’s because I have a tendency to stream 24/7 news while studying. And if I have to do a lot of reading, I attach my laptop to it and read while lying on my bed.’ Enjolras turned on the tv that looked rather old, compared to the one in the living room. But next to the one Eponine had in her house, it still felt like watching a movie in a cinema. He handed him the remote control. 

‘Will you be okay like this?’ 

‘Okay? Man, this is the best holiday I ever had,’ Grantaire chuckled, leaning back against the pillows. Enjolras looked at him for a moment, trying to figure out if he was joking or not. ‘Kidding, I lived in Paris, nothing will beat that.’ 

‘You did?’ Enjolras said impressed. 

‘Yeah, my mom is French,’ Grantaire told him while sapping through the channels on tv to find something entertaining. 

‘I have some French family too,’ Enjolras nodded. ‘Although, I believe it’s mostly people who moved from The Netherlands to France, not the other way around. Not recently at last.’ 

‘They live in Paris?’ 

‘Some,’ Enjolras nodded. ‘How about you? Did you go to visit family?’ 

‘Nah, I don’t really know my mother’s family that well. I believe I have grandparents and an aunt or something living off South. But I don’t think I ever met them.’ 

‘That’s harsh,’ Enjolras thought, sitting down at the bed with him. Grantaire looked at him and for a moment forgot what they were talking about. Enjolras eyes were blue and kind and reminded Grantaire of the sky on a sunny day. Luckily for him, he realized before it could be called staring. 

‘Well, my mom ran away with a fourteen year older man when she was just nineteen, so I get they were rather pissed at her. I believe they exchange Christmas cards there days,’ he quickly got back on topic. Perhaps a bit too quickly now he realized what he was sharing. 

‘Your father must be a special man, getting a young woman to part from her family like that.’ He didn’t seem put off by the large age different at the least. 

Grantaire huffed. ‘He’s not. At least not in a good way. And he’s not my father.’ 

‘They’re not together anymore?’ 

‘They are, but…’ Why was he even telling all of this? ‘It’s complicated. How about your family?’ 

‘In a way similar to yours. I ran away too, but I was seventeen.’ Grantaire laughed at that. 

‘Really? Just like that?’ 

‘Yes. I’ve argued with them as long as I can remember. And one day, I decided I’d had enough, took my stuff and left.’ 

‘Where did you go?’ Grantaire said, feeling impressed. 

‘Combeferre. But his parents send me back home.’ 

Grantaire laughed at that. ‘So far for your adventure.’ 

Enjolras chuckled. ‘Yeah. Not long after we moved to Amsterdam to study so it didn’t matter much.’ 

The door opened and Joly walked in, careful with a cup in his free hand. ‘Brought you tea. It’s good to drink a lot if you’re feeling sick.’ 

‘Will you be alright like this?’ Enjolras asked again while getting up. Grantaire could feel the matrass shift, leaving a sad empty space. 

Grantaire nodded. ‘Yes, thanks. For both.’ 

‘Welcome, just call if you need anything,’ Joly smiled and gave a short wave before leaving the room after Enjolras. He left the door just a bit open so Grantaire could hear their voices in the background. 

Grantaire relaxed against the pillows and settled on some stupid American police series to watch while sipping tea. The discussion in the background got a bit louder and for a moment he was scared they would actually get into a fight over this. But it didn’t happen and the discussions were broken by laughter every now and then. He couldn’t remember a recent time when he had been more relaxed while not stoned. 

 

When his friends had gone home, Enjolras returned to his room to find Grantaire asleep, wrapped in his blankets. Some messy and dirty black curls peaked from under them. He couldn’t help but smile. Softly he woke the other, who looked up at him with small, sleepy eyes. Enjolras placed an arm around him and helped him back to the spare bedroom where he placed him in bed again. For a moment Grantaire looked like he wanted to say something, but then he just made himself comfortable again and fall asleep within seconds. Enjolras made sure to be really quiet while leaving the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there it is! Tell me what you think of my Amis! And the slow build of contact between R en Enj. Also, Joly is a darling, Bahorel is secretly cuddly and Courf is just being Courf. 
> 
> Next chapter we will follow Enjolras to the Waterlooplein.


	9. Waterlooplein

Amsterdam is a wonderful city because there are always people around. It’s alive and moving, you’re never truly alone. But it’s also big and makes you can walk around unnoticed, surrounded by people. This strange combination of things made walking around Amsterdam so comforting for Enjolras. It had truly been a relieve when he had first moved here. His parents mason was massive and old, it had felt like living in a museum between dead things. It had the effect of feeling unwanted and misplaced. There was some sort of saying around his family never to buy furniture, you simply inherit it. Just like your house, money and everything else. So as soon as he had the keys to his own place, he had gone running to the Ikea for some serious shopping. If not for Combeferre, his whole apartment would have looked like a page from the Ikea catalogue. No, his parents’ house hadn’t been a welcome one and he did everything he could to make sure his own place was nothing like that. 

The general rule of Amsterdam was, if you behave and mind your own business, people will leave you alone. 

 

It had been about an hour since he had started walking when Enjolras reached the Waterlooplein. The square was filled with a fleamarket that never moved place and where even though it was cold, tourists were still looking through the diversity of items for sale. There were about three hundred stands but the one Enjolras frequently visited was a stall that sold famous paintings printed on shirts. You could almost mistake it for a normal shop, except the fabric building had no front. Having been alone with his thoughts long enough, Enjolras walked to the back where there was a small desk with a chair next to it. A young man was sitting there, like every afternoon, six days a week. His ginger hair was hardly visible underneath his hat. To keep warm while sitting, he had placed an old knitted blanket over his legs and was knitting something unknown to Enjolras while wearing fingerless gloves. His jacket was thick but worn, he recognized it as Courfeyrac’s from a few winters back. 

‘Hey Enj,’ Feuilly greeted. His voice was a bit rough, probably because of sitting outside for this long. ‘I assume you bring bad news, or else you would have just called.’

Enjolras pulled out a second chair from behind a rack of clothes and sat down before answering. 

‘How come you have three jobs and I can’t even get an internship that doesn’t pay.’ 

‘Wanna switch?’

Enjolras thought about that for a moment. ‘I don’t think I could work in a bar,’ he said honest, what made Feuilly laugh. 

‘No, you couldn’t. You would start arguments out of boredom and scare everybody away.’

‘Probably. How about you? Would you take my live?’ 

‘Tempting,’ Feuilly said. ‘Seems nice to have your own castle.’ 

‘My family doesn-‘ 

‘I know,’ Feuilly interrupted smiling. ‘And no, I would rather have this live.’ 

‘You would make a great lawyer though.’ 

‘Thanks.’ 

Enjolras leaned back in the chair and looked around the shop. A few Asian girls came walking in, talking in a language Enjolras didn’t even try to listen to let alone understand. ‘Doesn’t it bother you almost all your friends are still in school and you…’ 

‘Spend your days freezing outside on some market place?’ Feuilly finished and Enjolras nodded to confirm. ‘Yes, sometimes. But I like being around people and listen to them, observing them. Though around this part of winter I really wish my live took place somewhere else, somewhere warmer. Maybe one day, when I find money, time and energy, I’ll pick up my learning. For now, I prefer this.’ 

‘I admire you,’ Enjolras sighed. 

‘Now, tell me why you’re actually here. How did the interview go?’ 

‘Same as the others, complete disaster.’ 

‘That bad?’

‘It started out okay. They looked at my grades and work and were very impressed, but-‘ 

‘A bit too much so.’

Enjolras nodded and sighed again, loosening his tie. ‘Working hard seems to work in my disadvantage. They told me to apply with the bigger companies or ask my uncle so they can keep the place open for those who cannot get a simple internship through family.’ 

Feuilly hummed a bit, picking up his knitting again. ‘You just always pick the places with lawyers who are actually good people. So, now what?’ 

‘Ask around again, keep trying. If I lose a semester over this, I might as well work on our own cases instead.’ 

‘Doesn’t that count as internship?’ 

‘Perhaps, but my teachers requested I show them I can work well with others.’ 

‘Others than Combeferre they mean,’ Feuilly chuckled. ‘But maybe working with me and the others count as practice without Ferre there to… slow you down.’ 

‘To point out I’m being an asshole,’ Enjolras corrected. 

‘That too. But you’re nice enough when you’re not trying to convince somebody of your ideals.’ 

‘Thanks, I guess,’ Enjolras chuckled. 

The conversation was interrupted by the girls and Feuilly explained in very slow English that no, they did not have that shirt in a different size, and no, it didn’t suddenly appear if he went to check anyway. He got up to help them find a different shirt in the right size, leaving Enjolras behind. To kill a bit of time, he started counting the money in the metal case. Sometimes it worked calming for his emotions to do something simple. Feuilly send the girls to him to pay so he could go help a couple who had walked in as well. Enjolras tried to be just as patient in talking English as he had heard Feuilly do, but it was frustrating how little they seemed to understand. When putting the money away, he sneaked in some of the coins in his pocket as well, knowing Feuilly counted at the end of the day and took what was too many home. 

‘Isn’t your boss supposed to be here as well?’ Enjolras asked when Feuilly had time to sit down again after several tourists coming by. 

‘Yeah, but who knows here he is. Haven’t seen him since I got here this morning. But if he doesn’t show at four, I’m off anyways. Not my problem he can’t read his own watch.’

‘Maybe he just never got a change to learn,’ Enjolras thought, thinking about Grantaire and his inability to read. ‘You wouldn’t believe the numb-‘ 

‘Maybe one of the woman he visits will learn him,’ Feuilly interrupted, clearly annoyed. ‘It’s not even I’m against prostitution an those using the services or anything, just against the way he talks about them. Like they’re waiting impatiently for him to finally come by.’ Enjolras tried to hide his horror and failed. ‘Joly told me Jehans friend is staying over at yours,’ Feuilly kindly changed the subject after a moment of silence. 

‘Grantaire, yes, he is,’ Enjolras nodded and frowned a bit, thinking about the man. 

‘What do you think of him?’ Feuilly asked openly. 

‘It doesn’t matter what I think,’ Enjolras said a bit too quick. ‘He was sick, and needed somebody to look after him for a moment and Combeferre volunteered. So far he’s been no trouble.’ 

‘When he’s feeling better, you should take him to the Corinth,’ Feuilly said.  
‘… Take him as in, I have to go too?’ 

‘Yes. I haven’t seen you around for ages. Maybe it’s a bit more crowded, but at least it’s a lot warmer then out here.’ 

‘I’ll see,’ Enjolras thought, listing all the things he needed to do before allowing himself to go. All the things he could use as an excuse not to go. ‘Courfeyrac seemed to take interest in him, so I assume he’ll take him along.’ 

‘Anything to do with Jehan has Courfeyrac’s interest,’ Feuilly chuckled. ‘He’s so over his head about him, it’s amazing. I like the kid though, he’s nice enough.’ 

Enjolras hummed, not voicing his opinion about the newest member of their group of friends. It was true Jehan was kind and sweet, but he also made Enjolras uncomfortable and so did the drugs. They sat together in a comfortable silence. Talking like this with Feuilly always did wonders to his mood and made him calm again. 

‘I think I’m heading home,’ he said when he started to get a bit too cold. ‘Will you come over for dinner?’ 

‘If you’re okay with having dinner at half past four,’ Feuilly laughed. 

‘I am, if that means you’re coming,’ Enjolras promised serious. ‘And don’t worry, I was just planning on warming up some left overs, there will be no cooking.’ 

‘Alright, I’ll come by,’ Feuilly chuckled, greeting some new people coming in. ‘See you later.’ 

‘Good luck with all of this.’ Enjolras made sure he put the chair away again before he left Feuilly to deal with the borrowed shop on his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who wonder about the shop, check out: http://waterlooplein.amsterdam/markt-aanbod/famous-paintswear/  
> It exists and it's amazing! I have this wonderful Van Gogh shirt that makes me extremely happy every time I wear it. Owner is nice enough though, no reality there. Also, I love Feuilly, you might have noticed. 
> 
> I got the next chapter planned, I just need to write it. (it will most likely involve some more Feuilly and a bit of yelling) But first let's rock these tests I have coming up! 
> 
> Hope you are fine, thanks for reading! 
> 
> With love,


	10. The chocolate muffin exchange

By the time he got home, Grantaire had disappeared. For a moment he walked around looking for some kind of a note, till he remembered how unlikely it would be for the man to leave one in the first place. Strange enough, he felt sad about it. He decided the feeling was probably caused because if he had been able to spend more time with the man, he would have been able to help him. Get his life on a better track, help him build up security, get him out of the business he was in. He would have been able to do that. He would have helped. If he had known how. 

The next week he visited every lawyer he thought was good in a last attempt to get an internship. Whatever happened, he would not go to his uncle for an easy spot. His stress and obsession caused all his friends to stay away for the time being. Luckily Feuilly proved himself true and found one office actually looking for an intern just outside the centrum. New year came and went with a unwelcome visit to the family and after the holyday he spend all his time working for the law firm. They were impressed by his work and the pages he wrote for them, but not so much by his social skills and view on reality and idealism. Wanting to do good and prove himself, he worked even more. 

January brought useless cold weather. If it was cold enough, the water would freeze and everybody would go ice skating. If it was snowing, the world would look bright again and people would enjoy being outside. But on days like these, it was just cold and dark. He walked out in dark and came home in a dark and cold house, since Combeferre worked a lot of night shifts at the hospital. Trying to cheer himself up and motivate him to work hard, he picked up a habit to go by the Musain before going to work. Coffee was good and breakfast was better since he didn’t have to make it himself. 

 

At one special day at the beginning of Februari his boss had asked him to get in early to come along and meet a client out of town. It was a perfect situation to show he could be social and work with people. Happy and nervous to do right, he found himself awake and on his way to the café way too early. When he got to the door he wondered if the place would even be open at five to begin with. The lights were on though and when he tried, the door opened. ‘Hello?’ he called when he stepped into the small hall, not wanting to sneak up on people by accident. It had happened before. 

‘Oh, hey! We’re not actually open yet, but it’s too cold to wait outside, so come in.’ The voice from upstairs sounded awake and happy for the time for day. 

He walked up the few stairs that led to the actual bar and was greeted by the smile of the most cheerful barista he had ever laid eyes on. If he had been remotely interested in woman, he would have found her attractive for sure. He wasn’t, though, so in his eyes she was just a sweet, nice girl. 

‘Good morning,’ he greeted, smiling back. ‘I’m sorry I walked in too early, I hadn’t realized.’ 

‘Don’t worry about it, I always think the place is a bit too quiet before the morning rush any way,’ Cosette ensured him, making him feel better instantly. If only for this, he would take the long way to the office every day. 

She put her long, blond hair up in a messy tail and started making him his order, that was the same every day. The sweater she was wearing was good quality and suited her gorgeous, making her look girly even though everybody normally looked a bit fat and manly in thick sweaters. ‘What gets you out of bed this early?’ she wondered, wiping her hands on her pink apron before sliding his plate with breakfast across the bar where he had taken place. 

‘Same as you,’ he said, taking off his gloves and coat. Because he and Cosette were the only ones he didn’t feel bad placing them on the chair next to him. ‘Work. Why do you unlock the door before the place is opened? I thought there was a backdoor leading to the house upstairs.’ 

She smiled a bit guilty. ‘It’s for a friend. He works the nights and comes by before he heads home.’ 

‘Oh, I see. Must be one hell of a job to be worth those hours.’ 

‘… yes, probably,’ she said vague and turned her back to him and started taking the chairs off the tables to hide her blush. 

‘Or maybe he doesn’t actually want the hours but his boss is making him take them,’ he thought out loud. 'Do you know if he’s a student? Is that how you know him? I’ve read a lot of young students who fall into the new system take up a lot more hours they can actually work.’ A few years ago the government had passed through a new system that took away the old scholarship all students got and replaced it with a free loan. It was the best loan you could ever get, but a loan any way and it had to be paid back some day. 

‘He’s not a student. He can’t even read actually. How strange is that, right?’ she answered, stopping for a moment to think about it before shaking her head and moving on with her morning chores. Enjolras, on the other hand, was left frozen for a short moment. 

‘Cosette, is it possible I’ve seen him around here?’ he said careful. 

‘Oh, yes. He’s been coming here for half a year or something. That’s how I got to know him. He’s a bit strange and guided, but ones you get to know him he’s a real sweetheart. I’ve been trying to convince him to model for a school project. No luck yet, but this morning he almost seemed to consider it!’ 

‘Black curls, green eyes?’ Enjolras asked, making Cosette loop up surprised. 

‘Yes, that’s him. Not too big, actually a bit small. Scar right here.’ She moved her finger across her forehead. 

‘Grantaire,’ Enjolras sighed. ‘I’ve actually only seen him here once.’ 

‘Are you two friends?’ she wondered, walking back to the bar to sit opposite to him. 

‘He’s the best friend of the guy a friend of mine is dating,’ Enjolras explained. ‘That sounded more difficult than it is.’ Cosette laughed. 

‘So, a friend of a friend. That’s good.’ She nodded approving, fiddling with the cloth in her hand. 

‘What do you mean by that?’ 

‘Just… you might be a good influence on him, I guess. He really is sweet. Handsome too, in a strange way. That’s why I want him to model.’ 

He didn’t knew a lot about modeling and art, but he could see why she found the man interesting. He had something about himself that made it difficult to look away. Somehow, he knew it was in his eyes. ‘Did you offer to pay him?’ 

‘I did, of course I did. But the only thing he allows so far is for me to take a picture each morning, in exchange for tea and a chocolate muffin. I’d say that’s a great deal and I gathered some nice pictures, but I got this project coming up and I’d really like his help with it.’ 

‘You let him inside early every morning, just to take his picture?’ He had not known she took her study that serious. It always seemed to him working at her father’s café was her priority and classes she followed whenever she had the time. Maybe she was good at it. But then why work so much?

‘And to chat of course. We drink tea together, it’s a nice way to wake up. I actually get out earlier for him. I’d love to show you the pictures, but we agreed I have to ask his permission before using them. I’ll ask tomorrow, since you’re friends, maybe he won’t mind,’ she smiled happy. 

‘I’m not sure we really are friends,’ Enjolras said quickly. ‘We’re more acquaintances.’ 

‘I’ll ask him anyway.’ 

Enjolras nodded, frowning a bit as he was thinking. ‘Cosette… I know you and your father allow to buy coffee in advance for people who don’t have the money for it. Would it be strange if I asked to pay for Grantaire’s breakfast? After working all night, I guess he must be hungry. I’m sure he can do with more than a chocolate muffin.’ 

‘Ehm, I don’t know,’ she said, looking at him with a small frown on her forehead. Since she had not declined it immediately, Enjolras felt some hope. ‘I’ve never thought about it. I don’t think papa would want us to hand out free food, that might be a bit too much. But, since you’re buying it for him specially… And papa is not awake when I let him in…’ She bit her lip while thinking but her face lit up again after a moment. ‘You know what, I’ll allow it. But just this exchange, because you know each other.’ 

Enjolras smiled at her. Maybe this would be the change he was looking for to help out this not quiet friend he had. ‘Thank you.’ 

She smiled and got up, walking to the cash register. ‘So that’ll be one extra breakfast and one extra coffee.’ 

‘And an extra tip for letting me in this early,’ Enjolras said, taking out his credit card.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, proves again I am right to not promise regular updates. I'd written two whole chapters but then decided that was not how I had intended on writing this story, so I started over again. This chapter felt more natural and I'm happy to publish it. Also, Cosette! I hope you're all okay, and thanks for sticking with me! 
> 
> I feel like ice skating, but it's not cold enough for the canal to freeze deep enough. So I might take these guys skating instead, but no promises, I've not decided yet. Lots of different ideas and story lines to work out, I'm not done with this story yet, just taking my time. 
> 
> Also, I've made a quick tumblr for those who are interested in extra stuff. I found myself writing small monologues for different Amis, and why not share, right? Right. Find me at deargrantaire.tumblr.com . Or don't, that's okay too :) And if you want to chat, I'd love to hear from you! 
> 
> With love,


	11. Water freezes when it gets below zero

‘Come on, R!’ Eponine called through the basement window. ‘They’re all gonna be waiting for us and I didn’t cause a fight with Gav to be on time just to be late because of you.’

‘Well, you should have known better,’ Grantaire told her from under his ruin of a bed, pulling everything from underneath to find his ice skates. ‘You want them to get to know you the way you are, right? So that’s too late and a bit moody, just trying to help here.’ 

‘Don’t make me come down there,’ Eponine warned, using her dangerous voice that normally made people jump in position instantly. Grantaire laughed and moved back on his stomach. He sneezed when he sat up and wiped his nose with the sleeve off his coat. Sneezing meant there was dust and you should clean, but he already knew as much and also he wouldn’t clean anyway. Just occasionally change your sheets and spend as much time elsewhere. He took the only chair in his room and placed it on top of a pile of clothes. ‘Catch!’ he said as he pushed his bag out through the window. Stepping on the chair was a beautiful form of balance and he quickly pushed himself up on the street through the small window. Eponine offered him a hand to help him climb out of his room, what showed she was just nervous and not angry. 

‘Hey darling.’ Grantaire smiled and kissed her lips. ‘Looking charming as ever.’ His friend huffed and tugged at her long, black coat that had a belt around her waist to show off her slim figure. It was new, he knew because he was wearing her old one. A brown one with fake fur around the hood. She had helped him patch it up so at least it would hold some wind outside. It didn’t hold a single drop of rain though, he had already discovered as much. 

‘I am so excited for this!’ Jehan said happy, jumping toward Grantaire for a quick hug and to wrap a long scarf around his neck. One he had definitely made himself, nobody on earth would sell a scarf with that many colours and rough ends. Grantaire loved it though and placed an arm around his waist so they could walk up together. 

‘Where’s the teen?’ he wondered as they started moving. 

‘As if I know,’ Eponine said moody. ‘He dropped off his bag and ran for it.’ 

‘He probably already found the others,’ Jehan thought. ‘Don’t worry about it.’ 

‘Oh, I wasn’t worried. Angry and annoyed are better words for it.’ 

‘Come on, Pony, it’s gonna be a good day,’ Grantaire promised, tugging her towards him and placing an arm around her as well. ‘They’re all gonna love you and your bro. And if you dislike them, we’ll just abandon them like the dicks we are.’ 

‘Courf already loves you,’ Jehan informed her smiling. ‘And Gavroche. He loves children, how sweet right?’

‘Yeah, we know, he’s the perfect guy,’ Eponine snorted though she didn’t sound so hostile now. ‘So did you finally fuck him?’ 

Jehan played with his hair, definitely a nervous tick. ‘We’re taking things slow.’ 

‘If you’re scared, you should just tell him so.’ Grantaire softly squeezed his waist, making Jehan jump and laugh. 

‘I’m not scared! I just don’t want to jump into bed with everybody. It’s really nice, you know, the dating and everything. Slowly moving around each other, the secret kisses, everything. Really, R, we missed out in high school.’ 

‘Not really, I enjoyed myself.’ 

‘Go lie to someone else,’ Eponine huffed. 

‘You didn’t even know me in high school,’ Grantaire protested. 

‘I know enough,’ she ensured him. 

‘Hey, how is that professor of yours, the woman who said autism didn’t exist?’ 

‘Oh my god, you have no idea how stupid she is,’ Eponine started, talking louder instantly. ‘If you have stupid opinions, so what, free speech and everything, but fucking not if you’re a teacher! How can we ever provide good care if people like her don’t teach classes what they should know. She just refuses to speak about anything she doesn’t believe is true. Even if all new studies show it’s not caused by anything, it’s partly genetic even and it’s definitely a real thing. And something else…’ 

Grantaire couldn’t help but smile as he walked through Amsterdam with his two best friends, all carrying ice skates in big bags. The cold weather had made the streets a bit slippery but nothing too bad. Holding onto each other it was easy enough. At least it was dry weather with a bit of sun. It was still morning so the sun on their faces only left a promise for a good day. 

 

They had agreed to meet at a parking space just outside the centrum of town so none of them had to travel far. Since his time spend at Enjolras and Combeferre’s place, Grantaire had met up with Bahorel and Courfeyrac a few times. He had also seen Combeferre again and even though he really liked the guy, he fled the scene after a few minutes. Combeferre was too smart and all knowing, it made him feel weak and in need of help. Which was stupid, he was just trying to be nice. And it was unfair to run from him since he did accept meals off his roommate. Though, to his defense, he did feel bad about that as well. Cosette was just too good a cook to refuse. Seeing Enjolras again made him feel a complex way, a mixture of shame, excitement, and somehow, fear. 

When Courfeyrac had said he would arrange a car, that was what they had been expecting. Not a real time full size limousine. To make it worse, Courfeyrac was waiting for them wearing a fitting suit, including a top hat, and way too big a grin. Jehan giggled mad and jumped around his neck. Courfeyrac lifted him for a moment in a tight embrace, laughing.

‘My darling, you arrived at least! And oh my god, you look wonderful this morning!’ 

‘And you too! Can I ride in front with you?’ 

‘Of course you can, I go mad when left alone too long.’ 

‘Wait, you are going to drive this thing?’ Grantaire said in disbelieve. 

‘Jep.’

‘Through Amsterdam.’

‘Absolutely.’ 

‘Can I still change my mind and go to my save and warm home instead?’ He looked at Jehan but Courfeyrac answered. 

‘You cannot, I’m an excellent driver. Even Joly feels save in my care, that says something. Now get inside before my toes freeze off.’ He opened the door and smacked his ass as Grantaire climbed in. ‘And you must be Eponine! If you’re only half as cool as your brother, and if I were not even half as gay as I am, I’d totally be falling for you.’ He actually bowed and gave her a hand kiss. 

‘Well, good to hear he’s already arrived,’ Eponine said. ‘Did R give you the, ‘’if you hurt my friend I’ll kill you’’ speech?’ 

‘He did not, but consider your message received,’ Courfeyrac said just a bit too happy. Eponine gave him The Look before getting into the car as well. Inside, it was warm and crowded, even if it were a big car. There were just a lot of people and bags inside right now. 

‘Damn, R, you didn’t say your friend would be hot,’ Bahorel whistled when she entered. Grantaire had found his place beside the big man, what very conveniently was also the furthest he could sit from Enjolras and Combeferre. 

‘Don’t you even dare,’ Grantaire warned him. ‘I’m so not in the mood for drama break ups right now.’ 

‘Also, my brother is present, so be decent,’ Eponine warned him, sliding in next to Grantaire. ‘I’m not gonna crawl around shaking hands, so, hello everyone, I’m Eponine! Don’t bother with names, I’m bad at them anyway, just introduce yourself if we talk later.’ 

‘I already know all their names,’ Gavroche told her smiling. He was sitting next to a new kid Grantaire had never seen before. He looked almost like a school kid, except he was too tall to truly be one and his not properly shaven beard gave him away to be older. His hair was brown and neatly cut. His clothes once were decent but looked more gray than black and had seen better days. Rich family but clearly not in touch at the moment, Grantaire decided. Most of all, he was looking awkward and moved away every time the bouncing Gavroche got close to him. At his other side there was Combeferre, who was sitting next to Enjolras. Combeferre seemed his relaxed self and was even wearing blue jeans. Very unlike his roommate, who was nervously tapping the cover of an impressive book and desperately tried to read despite the noise. It was a relieve the conversation they might have today would most likely not be in this car. 

‘Seatbelt on, everybody!’ a voice sounded out of the speakers. ‘Or don’t, it’s not my life you’re playing with. It’s too late for Christmas songs, so we’ll just have to do with a snow theme. For all your entertainment, I made us a playlist!’ Several people in the back groaned loud. ‘Hey, I heard that. You’re gonna love this, I know you will.’ There was a disconnecting sound and the music started to play as the car started moving. 

‘Most frustrating thing about this is the lack of snow outside,’ Bahorel said when Coldplay sounded through the speakers. 

‘That means the ice will be better, though,’ Grantaire said, turning his head so he could look outside the dark windows. 

‘You’re any good?’ Bahorel wondered. 

‘I’m okay,’ Grantaire shrugged. ‘I went skating a lot growing up, stepping on ice way too early, falling through multiple times, all of that.’ 

‘But you’re not from Friesland, right?’ 

‘No, Twente, but strange enough, water does tend to freeze there when it gets below zero.’ That made Bahorel laugh. 

‘Good point. I still hope someday it’ll freeze enough for us to go skating in the canal where my house is floating.’ Grantaire was silent for a moment and frowned slightly before he cleared up. 

‘Oh, you live on a boat,’ he understood. ‘That’s cool. Do you go swimming in summer?' 

‘Definitely, though it’s disgusting. You’ve never been around right? You should come party.’ 

‘That depends. Free bar?’ 

Bahorel grinned. ‘For you, absolutely.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skating is awesome, but don't fall. My knees have been all shades of blue for two weeks now. Worth it though. Hope you're all okay and having just as much fun as I've been having last month. It's starting to feel like spring, even the days where it's still below zero. 
> 
> This chapter is like a promise of a good day, and an introduction of both Eponine and Marius (did you spot him? Of course you did). We'll see how that'll go next update. Meanwhile, I'm searching for the perfect spot for Bahorel to park his house. 
> 
> (come say hi! https://deargrantaire.tumblr.com/ )


	12. And besides.

Because he was the only one of their group who didn’t own skates, Enjolras had to rent a pair at the station. Courfeyrac had picked an indoor circuit that hadn’t been used for television since last century. It was a nice day and the place was already filling up even though it was hardly eleven on a Friday. A few school classes of different ages were crowding the inner circle, laughing loud and having fun with their friends on the slippery surface. With envy, Enjolras watched a few little children race each other on the 400 meter course. They could even take the turns professionally. 

All his friends and the few extra people they had brought had found a place on the tribune and were getting ready. Bahorel gave him a wave when he saw him watching from where he was lined up. 

The renting skates were not of great quality and mostly made to last as long as possible while costing less. Therefore they were made of thick plastic and they never fitted right, so there was no point of fitting them before renting. Luckily he hadn’t planned to do a lot of skating anyway, and if he just stayed from sniffing the skates he would be fine. By the time he returned his friends had disappeared, leaving behind an impressive pile of bags and a few coats. Enjolras smiled and sat down on the tribune next to it. In the inner circle he could see Courfeyrac, Bahorel, the kid and the man whose name he had forgotten playing some sort of game that just seemed to involved the poor man falling over a lot. Combeferre and Joly were making slow rounds while talking. By the way Joly hold himself it was clear he would do anything possible not to fall but so far his leg seemed to hold fine. Grantaire and the sister were making laps while holding Jehan up in between them. From his spot, he could keep an eye on everybody. And so far, it seemed all of them were having a fun time. He opened his book. 

 

‘Hey there. Anything interesting you’re reading?’ It took a moment before he realized the voice wasn’t background noise but actually a person talking to him and probably expecting an answer. Enjolras hummed and finished the paragraph he was reading before looking up. Grantaire let himself fall into the plastic tribune seat next to him. He had taken off his coat but was still wearing old gloves that didn’t fit the slim sweater he was wearing. 

‘How so?’ 

‘Well, you go and borrow skates and then spend an hour just reading. Must be one hell of a book to make you miss out of all the fun.’ 

Enjolras checked his watch to see he was right. ‘You clearly don’t know me that well yet. I tend to lose track of time when reading.’ 

‘Then why did you start in the first place?’ 

Enjolras laughed soft because that was a smart question. ‘Like you said, interesting book.’ 

Grantaire smiled. ‘Right.’ He pulled a bag out of the pile and took out a bottle of water. Just an old cola bottle, nothing fancy like most people around Enjolras used. Recycled plastic and all of that. 

‘In need of a break?’ he guessed. 

‘Yeah. I guessed it might as well, since I’ve been turned over for better.’ He nodded to the ice where Jehan was now skating with Courfeyrac. 

Behind them, the girl was talking with Courfeyrac’s friend who had said a word to Enjolras all day. Enjolras didn’t know what to make of him yet, but the two of them seemed to enjoy each other’s company. 

‘Not that I’m complaining, they’re having fun and all,’ Grantaire said, watching his friends as well. ‘And I could do with a drink, so… anyway, your book?’ 

‘Beethoven,’ he said. ‘It’s about Beethoven.’ 

‘Like, the composer and all that? The ‘’Ba-na-na-naaa!’’ guy?’ 

‘Well… yes, that’s him. Just wondering, do you know more people called Beethoven?’ That made Grantaire laugh and for some reason, Enjolras smiled. 

‘No, just checking we’re talking about the same thing here. So it’s a book about music.’ 

‘Not so much. About his live and the influence he had. I just read about his connection with Napoleon.’ 

‘Oh? I didn’t even know they lived around the same time.’ Grantaire put the bottle back and crouched down to search the pile for another bag. Enjolras watched interesting how he kept his balance since he was still wearing his skates. When he found the one he was looking for he looked through it and pulled out a plastic bag with some bread. Again, something Enjolras would never use. His bread box was made of organic bamboo, he was strongly against the use of plastic bags for bread and plastic bags in general. But he stayed silent. Combeferre would be so proud. Grantaire inspected the bread but apparently it was to his liking because he sat back down and tugged it open. 

‘Beethoven dedicated one of his pieces to Napoleon,’ Enjolras went on, quickly looking back to his friends on the ice in front of him. 

‘Really? Wow. I’m not sure if that’s cool or just weird. So you’re only interested in the history, or also the music?’ 

‘It’s good music to listen while studying,’ Enjolras said, ignoring the fact he was talking with his mouth full of bread as well. ‘And sometimes Combeferre and I go to the concert building at the Museumplein to listen to some live classic music. And partly because the building is exceptionally beautiful.’ 

‘I like Mozart better though.’ 

‘You do?’ Enjolras said, not so much surprised but mostly interested. Apparently Grantaire didn’t understand so much out of his look and it made him laugh again. He had a pleasant laugh, it was musical and relaxed. 

‘Yeah, no need to look shocked about it. Jehan is a huge classics fan as well. Actually, he’s a music fan in general, you should see his collection someday. And my mother learned me some classical piano when I was little.’ 

‘Is she a teacher?’ Enjolras guessed. 

‘Since she learned me piano, I’m gonna say yes.’ 

‘Fair point. Do you still play?’ 

‘Not since ages. My stepfather just called it noise and never let me play when there were others around. What was like, all the time. And after I left, I never had access to a piano. So I guess I got a bit out of touch.’

‘We have a keyboard? Combeferre plays. If you want, you could come play at our place sometime?’ Enjolras was quick to suggest, surprising himself with it. 

‘Thanks, but no. I don’t have time anyway. And like I said, got out of touch.’ 

‘Alright. I would have liked to hear you play though.’ 

‘Enjolras, are you flirting with me?’ Grantaire said and grinned. 

Enjolras frowned and looked at him. ‘No. I just said I’d like to hear you play. I think it’s a shame you got out of touch just because you didn’t have a piano.’

‘Now you just sound like Michiel.’ He spoke the name in a very clear French tongue, making it sound different from the Dutch version of the name. More like a poem, less like a name. 

‘Who might that be?’ 

‘My nice brother. So, are you planning on skating, or are you just going to sit here all day and read?’ It was a very clear change of subject and Enjolras let it be. 

‘I’m not specially good at skating,’ he said honest. 

‘I can help if you want, I don’t mind.’ 

‘I don’t want -’ 

‘- to be a bother, yeah, I know. But I offered out of free will, what means I actually don’t mind. Else I wouldn’t have offered,’ Grantaire stopped him from talking. It was so clear and honest that Enjolras smiled again. 

‘Alright, but just one round. Till I get the hang of it.’ 

Grantaire chuckled and wiped his hand clean on his pants and offered his hand to Enjolras, who shook it laughing. 

He instantly regretted his decision when he took off his nice shoes that were decent but comfortable and switched them for the old borrowed skates. 

‘You’re so rich, and still you don’t own a pair of skates,’ Grantaire said, shaking his head. ‘What kind of Dutch are you.’ 

‘Like I said, I’m not that good. But yours look professional?’ 

‘More like antic.’ Grantaire wickled his feet, looking at the leather Noren he was wearing. There was no plastic in them at all. ‘Found them at my grandparents attic years ago, when I lived there. But they still hold, I just had to put in new shoe laces.’ 

‘And your grandparents didn’t mind?’ 

‘No, they’re too old for skating anyway. Even my grandfather admitted it, last time he tried he nearly broke his neck. I’m not sure that’ll keep him from trying then the whole place freezes over though…’ Grantaire said both amused and a bit worried. 

‘I doubt mine ever went skating at all,’ Enjolras said. He finally got his feet in and clicked the locks closed. 

‘You’ll want them to be tight,’ Grantaire said helpful. ‘Can I…?’ 

‘You’re the specialist.’ That earned him another smile and Grantaire kneeled down in front of him to fix his skates. 

‘Where did you grow up? Not near water I guess.’ 

Enjolras coughed uncomfortable. ‘You probably don’t want to hear this.’ 

‘Try me?’ 

‘I… I grew up in about three different places.’ 

‘You moved around?’ Grantaire guessed, not that surprised or shocked. 

‘Kind of. But we moved between three houses.’ 

Grantaire stopped what he was doing for a moment before he realized what he was saying and finished up fixing Enjolras shoes. 

‘Oh,’ he said. ‘I see.’ The silence was a bit awkward. 

‘Yeah… well… how about you?’ 

‘Grew up in a small village. But you could kinda say I had two houses. I send a lot of time with my grandparents.’ 

‘They lived close?’ 

‘Two minutes’ walk, on a small farm. You’re ready.’ Grantaire got up and offered him a hand. Enjolras took his hand for the second time that day and was surprised by the force behind it that pulled him up. Having two pieces of iron underneath his shoes made him feel a bit wobbly. When they were standing, Grantaire put his gloves back on. 

‘Your friend Joly will probably be pissed if you didn’t wear them,’ he warned. ‘He gave us a speech about safety and broken bones and people riding over your hands when you fall. It definitely lightened the mood.’ 

‘That does sound like Joly,’ Enjolras nodded, going to do so, before they moved to the entrance to the ice. The man stepped on it without any trouble, making it seem so easy. ‘Hold onto the sides,’ he warned. ‘You have to get used to how slippery it is.’ 

There had been no need to tell him. Enjolras hold onto the side as if his live depended on it. And it just might. 

‘Don’t laugh, this was your idea,’ he frowned when Grantaire was grinning wide at him. 

‘I won’t.’ 

Slowly Enjolras let go of the side to stand on his own feet. Or, on the iron beneath his feet, what he was very aware of. With extreme care, he started moving forward, trying to mimic the easy movements Grantaire made beside him. 

‘You said something about a farm?’ he tried to get the conversation going again, mostly to stop Grantaire from looking at him. 

‘My grandparents had a farm. One of my brothers owns it now. He let them stay in their house though. He and his soon-to-be-wife life next to it in a renovated barn. Hey, if you’d hold my hand, that’d make it easier for you. Probably.’ 

Enjolras nodded and without protesting took the hand that was offered to him. Third time, except it felt less intimate because they were both wearing gloves. He had hardy moved at all and at this speed they would take most of the day to finish their lap. 

‘Good job, Enjy!’ Courfeyrac laughed when skating past them with Jehan right behind him. Grantaire waved at them. 

‘Jehan seems to be doing a lot better.’ 

‘Yeah, he always has a hard time getting used to the ice. Just like you now. You’ll see, after a few rounds everything will go much smoother.’ 

‘You say so now…’ 

‘I do indeed. So, how long have you known Combeferre?’ 

‘Our parents used to be friends. Well, some sort of friends, it’s complicated. My grandparents live close to them and we spend a lot of time together during visits. We went to school tog-‘ Enjolras grabbed hold of Grantaire’s arm when he lost balance and almost made them fall over. 

‘I got you,’ Grantaire said quickly, putting him back on his feet. Well, on the iron underneath them. 

‘This ice is going to be the death of me,’ he complained dramatically, making Grantaire laugh again. 

‘Natural ice is much easier,’ he admitted. ‘less slippery.’ 

‘It’s better if you talk,’ Enjolras decided when they started moving forwards again. ‘Tell me about the farm?’ 

‘Not much to say. I was never really involved in it, my brother was going to take over so there was no point. I did help my grandmother in her garden though. But that’s it.’ 

‘Okay… Tell me something else, about your family? You have siblings you said?’ 

‘Three brothers. Half ones, but it’s complicated. I only get along with Michiel, he’s only a year older. But he lives in Paris now.’ 

‘Paris? What is he doing there?’ 

‘Studying. How about you? Any brothers or sisters?’ 

‘None. I just have Combeferre. Must have been nice growing up with that many brothers.’ 

Grantaire snorted. ‘Like I said, complicated.’ 

Enjolras dared to look aside for a moment to see Grantaire’s serious face, frowning slightly as he looked at the ice. 

‘Okay. Do your brothers speak French too? Is that why Michiel is living in Paris?’ He tried to speak the name the same way Grantaire had done, but it just sounded stupid.

‘Our mother is French,’ Grantaire said though it didn’t sound cheerful or light anymore. 

‘And your father?’ 

‘Honestly,’ Grantaire said, looking at him now. All the joy had drained from his blue eyes and he was looking at Enjolras very serious now. ‘I don’t mind chatting, but when I say it’s complicated I mean it’s not a subject for small talk. Let’s just say of all my family I only get along with Michiel, our mother and my grandparents. All the others could drop dead and I wouldn’t care one bit.’ 

Enjolras nodded that he understood and Grantaire looked away again, still frowning a bit. ‘Sorry for pushing.’ 

‘It’s okay.’ 

At first, Enjolras feared the silence that fall would be uncomfortable, especially since they were still holding hands and they had half a lap to go. But somehow it wasn’t so bad and Grantaire seemed to slowly relax again. He even smiled and waved at Joly who was sitting on a chair in the inner circle and was pushed around by Bahorel. 

‘Hey, you know what my mother always said?’ he broke the silence after a while. ‘If things are difficult, you have to sing. Makes it easier. Really, try it.’ 

‘I’m not going to sing!’ Enjolras protested instantly. ‘I can’t sing.’ 

‘I happen to believe that’s bullshit, but if you insist humming will work fine too. Just concentrate on the music.’ 

Enjolras huffed soft because he had never heard most of the songs they were playing in the station. It was background music and he had not paid it much attention. But apparently, it was one of those things that once it was mentioned to you, you couldn’t unhear it. It was like the ticking of an old clock that’s just always there. Or the bus that stops in front of your house every half hour. You don’t notice it, unless somebody point is out to you. Or unless it suddenly stops and you’re not sure what you’re missing but something is different. So without meaning to, he started paying attention to the music. It helped him find an easy pace for skating and the last part of their lap was not that much faster, but definitely more relaxed. 

‘Thank you,’ Enjolras said, a bit out of breath. ‘Really. It was fun, I had not expected it to be that much fun.’ He took a hold of the side again, letting go of his hand. 

‘No worries, I liked it too. Just a few more laps and you’ll be ready to race us all.’ His smile was charming and somehow made Enjolras giggle a bit. 

‘Let’s not get your hopes up,’ he warned. 

‘Alright. And Enj?’ 

‘Yeah?’ 

‘Thank you too.’ He gave him a shy smile and turned around. With a few quick steps he speed up to catch Combeferre who had just passed them. Enjolras watched them from the side, unaware of his own smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a long one! You're welcome. Let's say that's the good thing that comes with being a bit sick (I've tried not to cough on my work, don't worry). If I missed anything while rereading this, please let me know. Comment or visit my special tumblr: https://deargrantaire.tumblr.com/ 
> 
> Next chapter will probably be a short one, I'm already working on it. But no less fun of course. Happy chapters still, it's the beginning of spring and you all deserve some feel good. Michiel is gonna be great but I have not yet figured out what happened with their mom. Stay with me while we find out! 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading. Hope you are all okay. 
> 
> With love,


	13. The backroom of the Musain

‘First of all, you are not to talk shit,’ Jehan told him as they walked through the small streets for a short cut. The sun was just setting and the sky was clear for a change. Grantaire had always considered a clear sunset the most beautiful moment a day could have. And strangely, it didn’t seem to matter where you were, countryside or city. It was always breathtaking. It seemed like a good sign and he needed a good sign considering what Jehan had signed him up for this evening. He stopped to enjoy the view when they reached a small park, but Jehan tugged at his arm. 

‘Come on, we’re late.’ 

‘If you take it so serious,’ Grantaire thought as he followed his all-time best friend again, ‘why host it in a public place?’ 

‘They’re experimenting,’ Jehan explained. ‘To get more people involved. And it’s in a backroom, so it’s not really a public place. It’s just open for anybody who is interested, and can keep their mouth shut from stupid remarks long enough.’ He gave him a warning look and Grantaire huffed. 

‘I’m not to say a word, promise. I’ll just complain afterwards.’ 

‘Or tell me how I was right and this is amazing.’ 

‘Amazing way to ruin a free evening,’ Grantaire nodded, what awarded him a sharp punch from Jehans elbow. Being skinny is dangerous, that much can be said. 

The meeting, that was how Enjolras group of friends called it, was held in the back room of the Musain. So at least there would be a bar and a change to see Cosette, what was always a highlight in any day. The idea was to come together every other week, and this would be the third. For some reason, Jehan had decided they needed Grantaire to make it a success. And well, there was only so much you could refuse your best friend, so he had already kind of agreed to design them some new posters or whatever it was they needed. 

When they reached the café it was clear that, yes, posters would be needed. The paper on the door looked like a kindergarten printer spit it out in its free time. It was disgusting, especially next to the official posters of things to happen in the city. 

‘I told you we needed help,’ Jehan said when Grantaire had stopped to look at it. 

‘Nobody should be able to make something look this pathetic,’ Grantaire chuckled. 'Can I keep it? It’s amazing.’ 

‘We’re gonna be late,’ Jehan said again and pushed Grantaire up the few steps to the actual bar. There was a small evening crowd and slow chatting backed up by some music. Cosette smiled and waved short when she saw them from her position behind the bar, next to her father. Grantaire could only manage a small smile before Jehan tugged him along to a door next to the toilets. A few steps down gave them access to a room that looked bigger than it actually was, due to a lack of people and too much chairs. He recognized everybody from their day on the ice, about two months back. There was only a hand full of others and seen how they were spread around the room and chatting it was clear they were friends that had been brought along. Only two girls next to the door looked nervous enough to actually be new. 

‘What did the advertise say?’ Grantaire whispered to Jehan as they stood in the door. ‘Want a taste of your own funeral? Always wondered how to put a face to depression? Do you get off on awkwardness?’ 

‘Shut up,’ Jehan hissed, not amused at the slightest. ‘Shut your mouth, sit it out, and we’ll talk to Ferre when it’s over.’ 

‘Jesus, you’re fucking welcome I actually came,’ Grantaire said, rolling his eyes. Jehan ignored him and walked over to a table that just contained Bahorel and Joly. 

‘Hey there,’ Joly smiled as they sat down. ‘Curiosity got the better of you?’ 

‘More like two weeks of Jehan begging me to come and declare revolution with him,’ Grantaire thought, accepting a beer from Bahorel. 

‘Glad you’re here anyway,’ the big man said, giving him a pat on his back that was just hard enough to actually be a bit painful. ‘Enjolras has been freaking out slightly by this, it’s rather a change from writing a blog to organizing a meeting.’ 

‘Well,’ Grantaire said, making a point of looking around the room. ‘seen the number of people who showed up, he had all reason to be freaked out.’ 

Jehan kicked him under the table, but Bahorel just laughed. ‘Good point. But come again in a few weeks and we’ll talk numbers again.’ 

‘Maybe I will.’ 

‘Jehan,’ Enjolras called from the other side of the room. ‘Can you close the door, we’re ready to begin.’ 

 

‘Needed a break?’ 

Grantaire looked up as Combeferre lowered himself to sit next to him at the side of the channel, their feet above the water. It was starting to get cold again and the other man had been smart enough to bring his winter coat. Grantaire took a drag of his cigarette and nodded. 

‘I don’t get how you can stand it. Hours filled with endless talking and it’s all bullshit anyway. Sorry to hurt your believes, but it is. I mean, how can you actually believe people will listen to you when your idea’s are like that? So… idealistic and unrealistic. And the worst part is, he acts like he doesn’t know. Isn’t he supposed to be smart and all? Most of you are students, right? So you must be smart and see how useless the whole discussion is? It made my ears itch, that’s how bad it was to listen to.’ He brought the cigarette back to his lips to conclude his speech and make sure he wouldn’t go on, Jehan would have his head. 

‘Your cynicism didn’t go unnoticed,’ Combeferre informed him calm. He might have snorted or huffed every other idea Enjolras had mentioned. 

‘Yeah… what’s the idea of a meeting if the only person talking is Enjolras, occasionally interrupted by one of his friends to speak a few agreeing words.’ 

‘If you must smoke, can you try not to blow it in my face?’ 

‘Right, sorry.’ He was getting too wind up about this and he only had a few cigarettes left, so he needed to calm down anyway. Instead he took a deep breath and hold the smoke in his lungs for a moment, letting it sooth him. The street lights shone a dim light that was reflected by the calm water. At the other side, a car beeped as its owner unlocked it. Silently they watched as the woman got in and very handy drove it out of its parking spot. Only a small and low fence tried to prevent cars from driving into the water. It must work though, because the fences were almost everywhere where cars parked next to the channel. 

‘As you might know, we are still new to this,’ Combeferre said as the street got quiet again. 

‘No shit.’ 

‘And I agree a few changes should be made. We want to involve more people.’ 

‘So start with letting more people talk,’ Grantaire said, talking slower and more from reason than emotion. ‘Do you want to host a lecture or a discussion? There should be more breaks, more drinks and snacks, make an effort to make people feel welcome and relaxed. No wonder those girls left after half an hour. And honestly, did it matter much they left? I’m not even sure Enjolras noticed, they were of no essence. Nothing to contribute, it didn’t matter whether they were or were not there.’ 

Combeferre nodded, frowning slightly as he was clearly thinking. ‘I think I understand what you’re saying. We wanted to ask for feedback afterwards. Will you stay till we’re finished to fill it in for us? You make some good points for improvement.’ 

‘Feedback as in, writing answers to questions?’ 

‘Yes, we made a survey online.’ 

‘Can’t do that, sorry.’ 

‘You can borrow my phone if that’s the problem.’ 

‘That’s not the main problem,’ Grantaire said, trying to think of a way to not have this conversation. It never ended well, and he had grown to like Combeferre. He also knew that now they were spending more time together, he would find out sooner or later. And the sooner, the less disappointing it would be to break up a starting friendship. ‘I’m not good with words. When they’re written down I mean.’ 

‘You don’t have to give long answers,’ Combeferre ensured him, looking at him again. Grantaire forced himself to look back, to see the look on his face. 

‘No, you don’t get it. I can’t write. Can’t read either, recognizing my name is about all I can manage.’ 

‘Oh, I see,’ Combeferre nodded understanding, as if he had just been handed the answer to an interesting puzzle. ‘In that case, I can read you the questions and write down your answers.’ 

Grantaire stared at him, not noticing the smoke that was released towards the other man again. Combeferre just waved it off. 

‘That’s it?’ Grantaire said in disbelieve. ‘No remarks, questions, assumptions, excuses?’ 

‘About what?’ Combeferre laughed. ‘What should I have said? What excuses do you expect me to make because you have a problem with reading?’ 

‘’’Oh, sorry I didn’t know’’,’ Grantaire said with a high voice, mimicking about every shop employee every time he asked for help because of his disability. ‘’’What a tragic, I feel so sorry for you, your live must be such a hell place. Are you sure you’re allowed to be outside on your own, what institution did you escape from?’’ Or, even worse: ‘’that explains a lot’’.’ 

‘Do people honestly react in such a way?’ Combeferre said confused. 

‘You’d be surprised. And don’t say ‘’I’m sorry’’ cause that’ll make you just as bad.’ 

‘True. All I can say is this is a piece of information for me that I’m glad I have because I consider you a friend. And all I can and will do with it is offer you my help like I did just now.’ 

‘Very political answer,’ Grantaire chuckled. 

‘And, when a better moment arises, I might ask some questions about it, as a friend. I expect you to tell me that it’s none of my business when that moment arrives and you don’t want to talk about it.’ 

‘Don’t worry, I will,’ Grantaire ensured him, pushing out the last of his cigarette and throwing the end on the pavement. A comfortable silence landed on them again and Grantaire took his time before he spoke again. 

‘I can do this,’ he announced, ‘your poster sucks, I can design a new one that will definitely look better. Jehan told me that would be needed and I agree. But I’m not going back in to sit it out. If you want my opinion, give me a call or something.’ 

‘Alright. How about this, you come over to our place on Friday and we talk over dinner.’ 

Grantaire shook his head. ‘Can’t do Friday. Monday would be better.’ 

‘Fine with me. I’ll check with Enjolras and give you a call to confirm.’ 

Grantaire reached out his hand and they shook on their new deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go, slowly their lives become tangled up. 
> 
> I have a great idea to get Bossuet in the story, can't wait to write it. Anybody else that has not been involved much and you'd like to hear from? Just let me know and I'll see what I can do for you! Or just leave any message, I love reading them. Or don't and I'll love you all the same. Just would be a bit more difficult cause I don't know you exist and all... Anyway...
> 
> Hope you enjoyed, thanks for reading!


	14. Posters and Potatoes

‘Hey, can you beep me up?’ Grantaire grinned at the camera, clearly very well aware Enjolras was watching him stand in front of the door downstairs. 

‘You can find your way up, right?’ he checked as he pressed the key button and a buzz clarified the door had opened. 

‘No problem, see you in a bit.’ He watched Grantaire disappear before he looked away from the display. 

‘Points for being on time,’ Combeferre said, checking his watch. ‘Jehan had no need to warn us.’ 

‘This time at least,’ Enjolras added as he walked back to his chair and picked up his book. He had not been such a great fan of this idea when it was offered to him, letting an almost stranger design their posters. But Combeferre had made a good point that improving Courfeyrac’s print would not be very difficult. Added to Grantaire not being a complete stranger anymore and apparently rather good at art. If he was completely honest with himself, he was mostly just nervous about having him over for dinner. Luckily he was good at hiding those feelings from himself and pretended to dive back into his book. 

There was a short knock before the door opened and Grantaire stepped in. Looking up for a short moment he could now see the man up full. He was wearing skinny jeans with holes in them and a hoody that was slightly damp from the drizzle outside. His wild curls were a bit flattened by it too. 

‘Wow, it smells really good in here,’ he remarked as he placed his bag next to the sofa and took off his hoody. His blue shirt was a bit baggy above his jeans but it was also surprisingly good looking. Despite being skinny he had shoulders and arms that showed muscles and Enjolras made himself look back at his book before it might get awkward. 

‘It’ll take a moment before it’s finished,’ Combeferre apologized. 

‘Shame, can’t wait to taste it.’ 

Combeferre smiled at that compliment. ‘Nice of you to come by, R.’ 

‘Sure thing. Thanks for letting me eat your food. Is it okay to do posters after dinner? I’m rather hungry.’ 

‘Have you eaten at all today?’ Enjolras asked blunt, realizing too late how rude that sounded. 

Grantaire chuckled and let himself fall onto the sofa opposite to him. ‘What’s it to you?’ he asked, not unkind but more curious. 

‘Just wondering why you’re so hungry.’ 

‘I had something to eat, but I wouldn’t call it a proper meal,’ Grantaire said honest and shrugged. ‘In my defence, I’ve only been up for a couple of hours.’ 

‘That’s no reason not to eat.’ 

‘I was too late for lunch and I didn’t want to come here and hardly eat anything, in my opinion that’s even more rude than being really hungry. Else Ferre would have cooked for me and I’d hardly take a bite.’ 

‘That’s worse than coming here half starving?’ 

‘Half starving? You got that over me saying I’m looking forward to tasting what smells so delicious? Jesus, are you going to be like this all evening?’ Grantaire snorted. 

‘Grantaire, would you like something to drink?’ Combeferre said from the kitchen to stop the argument. 

‘If I say yes, will you be asking whether or not I’ve been drinking enough today?’ Grantaire wondered, looking at Enjolras. 

‘It was just a question,’ Enjolras said, pretending to read again. ‘Forget about it.’ 

Grantaire chuckled. ‘Right. Do you drink wine with dinner?’ He looked over to Combeferre. 

‘Not on Mondays.’ 

‘That’s like the thing I miss most about Paris and France in general, they even have wine with lunch. But water will be fine.’ He got up and walked to the kitchen to accept the glass from Combeferre there. ‘You know, unlike popular believe, I’m not such a terrible cook. Can I help with anything?’ 

‘If you’re sure you don’t mind, you could keep an eye on the pans while I plate the table?’ 

‘Sure.’ Grantaire took over the spatula and checked the pans with interest. ‘Guessing you’re the cook in this house?’ 

‘Definitely. Enjolras is terrible and too stubborn to learn.’ 

‘Really? But it’s like super easy.’ 

‘Spoken like a man who can cook already,’ Enjolras commented. ‘And probably has for a long time.’ 

‘True,’ Grantaire chuckled. ‘But what if Combeferre were to have dinner somewhere else? Or worse, move out?’ 

‘He’s simply not allowed to,’ Enjolras said very serious. ‘Not ever.’ 

Grantaire frowned and looked at him with a mix of horror and confusion before Combeferre ruined it by laughing. The man had a pleasant laugh that made Enjolras chuckle as well. Grantaire looked from one to the other and started grinning. 

‘You two are the worst, who would have thought.’ Slowly they calmed down till they were all just smiling and a pleasant mood came over the room. ‘But speaking of moving out,’ Grantaire said while stirring the pan, ‘who owns this house? Or do you like rent it together?’ 

Enjolras and Combeferre shared a look. ‘I rent the place,’ Enjolras said. ‘Using my parents money.’ 

‘Who are also really rich,’ Grantaire guessed. 

‘They are, sadly. Maybe if they weren’t they’d understand more of life.’ 

Combeferre laughed soft at that and walked back to Grantaire to take the last pan and place it on the table as well. Enjolras took that as a sign to come over. 

‘Do you like a moment of silence before we start?’ he checked with Grantaire. 

‘Oh, no, not for me,’ the man chuckled.

‘Alright.’ He lifted the lid of the pans and plates were filled with delicious smelling food. After his terrible comment earlier, Enjolras tried not to look at their guest too much but he couldn’t help notice him looking hungrier the longer it took and how happy he looked when they started eating. For a moment they were all silent, just enjoying the food. When the conversation started up again, it was easy and light. 

‘I have three brothers,’ Grantaire told them as the conversation shifted to food again. ‘Two are a lot older and then there’s Michiel and me. And everyone always tried to be home around a different time so we wouldn’t have to eat together, we don’t get along very well. So most days it would just be Michiel, mom and me cooking and having dinner. What was always nice and I always helped. So, yeah, maybe it was a bit mean to comment about not being able to cook earlier.’ He looked over at Enjolras, who smiled and nodded to accept the apology. ‘Oh, also, my stepfather is a huge fan of Dutch meals, so potatoes, meat and vegetables every evening. And I just don’t get how people can eat the same thing every night.’ 

‘Reminds me of my grandparents,’ Combeferre said. ‘They always eat the same thing, every day. All those potatoes…’ He looked horrified, making Grantaire and Enjolras laugh. 

‘How about you?’ Grantaire asked Enjolras and he really wished he hadn’t. 

‘What we eat strongly depended on what cook my parents had hired.’ 

Grantaire whistled. ‘No shit you can’t cook. Have you even been in a kitchen before? Isn’t this house like super small for you?’ 

Enjolras rolled his eyes. ‘For a student house in Amsterdam, it’s big, I’m well aware. So I asked Combeferre to move in, and not just for cooking.’

‘Also to do laundry.’ 

‘That’s not true, I do just as much laundry!’ 

Grantaire laughed again. ‘Jeez, you two are like a married couple.’ 

‘I guess that’s just what happens when you live together long enough,’ Combeferre smiled. 

Grantaire helped clean up afterwards and they cleaned the table before spreading out the posters on top of them. Enjolras nodded approving when seeing them. 

‘I talked them over with Jehan,’ Grantaire told them. ‘It’s also his handwriting, in case you were wondering. I figured I’d make a few, so you can pick.’ 

‘They’re really good,’ Combeferre said impressed. ‘I think we can use those.’ 

‘We should bring them to the next meeting and see what the others think,’ Enjolras said. 

‘Are you going to vote on them?’ Grantaire looked at him with his green eyes and grinned. 

‘If needed to, yes,’ Enjolras nodded. 

‘You’re such a slut for democracy.’ 

Combeferre coughed in respond to that. ‘Are you coming to the next meeting, in two weeks? So you can present them yourself.’ 

‘No thanks. I made this for Jehan mostly. I don’t mind helping out some other time, but I don’t think meetings and me are a good combination.’ 

‘That being, I invite you for dinner again in two weeks,’ Combeferre said. ‘So we can inform you what the others said.’ 

‘Two weeks? I can probably do that.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last night, a little bird told me they had visited Amsterdam last summer and had thought about my story while walking the streets, finding it suited the city really well. What was such a huge compliment to me and only thinking about someone walking through the city thinking of something I've written makes me blush and feel slightly famous. (just a tiny bit, I can dream) So thanks again, sweet bird! If you want to tell me something or just chat, comment of find me at https://deargrantaire.tumblr.com/ I promise I'll be kind. 
> 
> About the story, this chapter is a bit slow and perhaps a bit boring, but I thought it was good enough for you to read and enjoy. Not much of Amsterdam, but some Dutch food and an insight in backgrounds. Next chapter is mostly done already and will involve some more people and even some shouting, how exciting right? Look forward to that on short notice. 
> 
> With love,


	15. My friends, my friends

‘All I want is for her to get something decent instead of those lunatics who can hardly put on their own shoes!’ Courfeyrac nearly shouted, raising his fist. ‘They are such complete fools when it comes to people, it’s hard to believe even the stupidity of it.’ 

‘Jeez, Courf, what got into your pants,’ Grantaire chuckled when he found the small group in the corner near the bar of the Corinth. He normally didn’t like walking off from work but it was a slow night, the Corinth was close and he was here on a special request. He only had one more scheduled appointment and he would not arrive in two hours. 

‘Shut the fuck up R, I’m so not in the mood for all your bullshit remarks.’ 

‘Hush my friend, I am just here to drink your beer and steal your rum.’ He patted Courfeyrac’s hair while taking his beer of the table to underline his words and sat down on top of Bahorel. 

‘Man, I normally have no problem with this, but with you looking like this I kinda do.’ 

‘But you’re such a soft chair,’ Grantaire tried, leaning back against his chest and forcing Bahorels arms around himself. 

‘Yeah, and no offence, but you look like you just did a striptease and forgot to put your cloths back on.’ 

‘Maybe I did,’ Grantaire said and wiggled his eyebrows at him. 

‘Come sit here, R.’ Combeferre pulled another chair into their corner and signed Grantaire got come over. He did but almost tripped over Courfeyrac’s legs when making his way past him. 

‘Watch your fucking step!’ he shouted angry, making Grantaire jump back on instinct. He tried to hide the shock it gave him though and clenched the bottle strong while forcing himself to go on as if it had no effect on him. 

‘It’s nothing to do with you,’ Joly told him soft, hardly to hear over the loud music. ‘It’s just… bad timing.’ Grantaire huffed a bit and sat down in between him and Combeferre. He took a big gulp of the beer. 

‘What happened to him?’ he asked Joly while Courfeyrac went on complaining loudly. 

‘I’d tell you if I knew, but I don’t believe anyone really understands it at this point. He’s just angry, it happens sometimes.’ 

‘Nice of you to come,’ Combeferre said. 

‘You seem to be the only one to think so.’ Grantaire looked at the tirade Courfeyrac was holding with slight horror and moved back a bit in his chair. 

‘If he goes on for one more minute, I’m going to take him outside and make him stop,’ Combeferre promised. ‘It sets rather a gloomy mood.’ 

Grantaire snorted at the understatement. ‘I’m almost happy I can’t stay long.’ 

‘Hey! Courfeyrac!’ a familiar voice but not so friendly sounded from the bar. Grantaire looked around and saw an annoyed Feuilly looking up from a laptop. ‘Shut your ugly tune or I have no problem throwing you out. Also, I’m trying to work here while at work, so a bit less attention on us would be great.’ Courfeyrac crossed his arms but did lean back. He was silent for a moment and then started angrily whispering to a not very impressed looking Bahorel. Grantaire relaxed a bit when the shouting had stopped. Luckily they were far enough in the back of a noisy and crowded bar so that not many people had noticed the spectacle yet. 

‘Who would have thought…’ Combeferre mumbled impressed. 

‘You guys still working on that insurance thing?’ Grantaire asked. 

‘Feuilly is managing the website and the event as we speak,’ Combeferre nodded, keeping an eye on Courfeyrac. ‘Will you be there?’ 

‘To do what?’ Grantaire asked. ‘Stand angrily in front of a building?’ 

‘I do hope that’ll be as exciting as it’ll get,’ Joly sighed. 

‘I’ll probably be either working or sleeping, so don’t count on me. But if you guys are working here, where is your leader?’ Enjolras did not count as the leader, of course, since he always made a clear point of the group being a democracy, but they all knew who he meant anyway. 

‘He doesn’t go out late normally, not really his scene,’ Combeferre explained. 

‘Somehow I- Jezus Christ!’ Grantaire screamed and jumped up when someone attacked him from behind. He nearly knocked over the small table as he turned around to see his assailant. Eponine was standing behind his chair, laughing loud. 

‘Your face,’ she laughed. ‘That was perfect.’ 

‘I fucking hate you, why did I deserve that?’ 

‘That’s what you get when you don’t return my calls.’ Eponine jumped over the back of the chair and sat down in it, pointing her tongue at him. 

Grantaire rolled his eyes and turned around, looking for a different place to sit. Feuilly had joined them too, hiding behind a laptop with Courfeyrac. It was getting rather crowded so Grantaire decided to use a different strategy. Standing in front of the sofa, he looked at Bahorel with sad puppy eyes. The big man sighed dramatically. 

‘Only if you put on Courfeyrac’s coat.’ Grantaire saluted him and quickly did before jumping back onto Bahorels lap. 

‘Best chair ever,’ he sighed happy, nuzzling against him. Bahorel just patted his hair and let him. Now Courfeyrac had calmed down and he had the best sitting place that could be provided, Grantaire started to enjoy his break. Being a good chair, Bahorel was willing to share his drinks with him without too much trouble. He chatted with his friends and even forgave Eponine for scaring the shit out of him, especially when Marius arrived and she was too occupied stroking her hair behind her ear to bother him any longer. All was well till Feuilly stood up with some urgency. 

‘Madame,’ he said, looking at someone Grantaire had not even noticed so far. ‘It is very impolite to take photos of strangers, and I strongly suggest you leave now.’ Just outside their circle, there was a young woman with a camera Grantaire recognized instantly. She looked a bit taken back by Feuilly with an innocent sort of confusion. Her camera was pointed towards Grantaire and his chair. 

‘Love what you’ve done with your hair,’ he said. 

‘Thanks, Grantaire,’ she smiled, tugging at the pink ends of her freshly cut hair. ‘And I’m so sorry, I totally understand your reaction.’ She turned towards Feuilly, looking like a hit puppy. 

‘I think I forgot to tell you guys, but I asked Cosette to come over,’ Grantaire explained to the others who had all stopped their conversations to look at the new comer. ‘She works at the Musain?’ he tried. 

‘I remember you!’ Courfeyrac said happily. ‘Come join us, please. Let’s get some more chairs over here, Feuilly aren’t you suppose to work here and help customers?’ 

‘Aren’t you suppose to organize your own protest?’ 

‘Fair point, mon ami.’ 

Grantaire shook his head at the change the man had made in less than an hour, from just one ball of anger and annoyance, to a happy bouncing chap helping a lovely girl to a seat. Cosette, being the darling she is, introduced herself to everyone present before sitting down next to Grantaire. Bahorel had left him for more drinks. 

‘I’ve got something for you.’ Cosette reached into her hand bag, taking out a rolled up magazine. Grantaire eyed it with suspicion. 

‘Okay,’ he said, stopping her already. ‘I am fairly sure you had said it would by no change be published.’ 

‘I said there would be a big change they would not even read my letter,’ Cosette corrected. ‘But clearly, I was wrong.’ 

Grantaire was frowning deep now, not sure he liked the course this evening was taking. It was just one rollercoaster of emotions and he almost started to feel as if his time would have been better spend at Patron-Minette. 

‘Something wrong?’ Bahorel asked when he joined them again. He handed Grantaire one of the beers and he put it to his lips directly. 

‘I made some pictures of Grantaire for the last half year, and I mailed them to a magazine,’ Cosette explained. They had the attention of most of the gathered man and Eponine. ‘And they published them.’ 

‘I could be mistaking,’ Feuilly said, looking up from his work once again. ‘But isn’t that a good thing? I guess that’s what you had hoped to achieve when writing in the first place?’ 

‘It was, but I hadn’t counted on it being published,’ Cosette explained, looking a bit nervous now. ‘And certainly… not this big.’ Grantaire groaned and let himself slide down on the sofa, already feeling both embarrassed and scared. 

‘Now I am really curious,’ Bahorel chuckled. ‘Let’s see how you made our lovely Grantaire look.’ He ruffled through his curls but Grantaire pushed him off. Cosette looked at him as if waiting for permission to show it. He hold up his hand in sign of waiting and finished his beer in one go. 

‘Alright, go ahead.’ She opened the magazine in her lap and looked through it for the correct page. It wasn’t difficult to find because his face filled one entire page. And it wasn’t a pleasant picture either. Grantaire did not recognize the picture but could guess what kind of morning it had been taken on. His eyes were big and serious, in his neck you could see bruises just forming, his face was red on a few places with marks of left over dark make up. He looked like a mess, and worse, a victim. Even though he had tried to prepare himself, it was still unpleasant to see. Around him all his friends had fallen silent and Grantaire mostly felt like throwing up. There was a reason he tried to hide this part of his days. The only reason Cosette got to see it was because everything seemed less bad when she was there, he could sleep peacefully after talking to her and eating some of her delicious breakfast. He could swear even though he might look like the picture when walking into the Musain before the morning rush, he looked lots better when leaving. 

Getting up, he took the magazine out of her hands, breaking the haunted atmosphere that had appeared with everybody staring at his ugly face on paper. ‘I believe you came by to give this to me, so I’m going to take it and burn it piece by piece, thank you very much. Have fun with your little protest.’ He pushed Combeferre away who tried to take his arm and stormed out of the Corinth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Could this really be happening? Another chapter? I can only hope my schoolwork will stick to the same pace... 
> 
> Anyway, some shouting as promised and even an exciting point to leave off. I enjoyed writing this, I hope you enjoyed reading it. deargrantaire.tumblr.com for those in the mood for a chat and some more information on the story! 
> 
> Love as always,


	16. Patron-Minette

Some people just keep on talking. Even in the middle of something intimate, personal, they wouldn’t shut up about minor things. And not for the sake of telling you about it, just for the sake of talking. Like a float of words streaming over the bed with no reason or intention. On normal days it would feel like a little drizzle to get rid of your headache and leave you slightly refreshed. On good days it could be funny. But on days like these it just made him tired and long for strong liquor. 

‘Where is your head today?’ the man chuckled, reaching out to pat his hair. ‘You’re normally not this gloomy.’ 

‘I’m sorry,’ Grantaire sighed. ‘I’ll make up for it next time. Sorry it bothered you.’ He took the hand and started placing small kisses over it. 

‘If you’re feeling bad, maybe you should go home. Drink some good wine, take a nice long bath, you’ll feel better, I assure you.’ 

‘Hmm, that does sound good,’ Grantaire hummed in thought. ‘Listen to some music, eat sweet chocolate.’ 

The man smiled. ‘Just like that. Taking care of yourself is important.’ Very easily he turned Grantaire around so he was lying in his arms. ‘Don’t worry too much, smiling suits you better.’ 

Grantaire placed his head on the bare chest and let himself be soothed by a stranger. If they could pretend when with him, maybe once in a while he could pretend with them. Pretend he was going to do all the nice things they whispered in the dark, instead of drinking more cheap whiskey and possibly ask Montparnasse for something else too. 

It was a nice goodbye with a few longing kisses and a promise to come again soon and Grantaire felt a tiny bit better when cleaning up. At least he had calmed down and he let himself wonder what it would have been like if he had asked to go home with his client to enjoy his bath and wine in his possibly massive house where the bedrooms looked like a hotel. A nice hotel, not like Thenardier next door. One with peppermint on the pillows and room service. 

His peace didn’t last long and without a proper break Montparnasse directed him back to the bar where a man was waiting for him, having requested his presence. The bar was crowded, even on a slow night. Most of people had gathered around the small stage, the bar, or the small tables were man and most of the woman walking around them were very familiar to Grantaire. The place reeked of man too: sweat, cheap and too much aftershave and the dusty smell of cigarettes. No wonder most of his clients made an appointment upstairs or even let him come to their places. Most of the crowd around here came to see the show, enjoy some attention and maybe have a quick go when they had enough to drink. It was not the kind of job Grantaire was looking forward to having right now. 

Making his way past the bar, giving a quick kiss to Eva in passing by, he headed for the table Montparnasse had described him. When it came into sight he swore under his breath and made some quick calculations before taking the chair opposite him. 

‘If this is for real, I insist on calling Jehan first, I have some standards,’ he told Courfeyrac. 

Courfeyrac looked away from the girls he had been watching on stage and laughed. ‘Call Jehan? He said goodnight like two hours ago.’ 

Grantaire frowned at him. ‘And how does him being asleep change things?’ 

‘What?’ For a slight moment Courfeyrac looked confused, till his face light up again. ‘Ooh, I get it. No need to call him, although… do you think I should have talked to him about going into a club like this?’ 

Leaning back in the chair, Grantaire looked him over. He seemed like he was enjoying himself just a bit too much, sitting in the bar like he had done nothing else all day. There was a hint of a grin around his lips that slightly worried him. ‘I don’t know, man,’ he sighed. ‘And I would have fucked you without second thought if Jehan hadn’t made a point a few months ago about keeping boundaries with me. So really I feel like I should check on the state of this… relationship thing between you two.’ 

‘Aww, man, I’m a few months too late,’ Courfeyrac chuckled. ‘Nah, I’m just here to talk. But really, you would have?’ 

‘You’re rich and you’re kind. So obviously, yes.’ He frowned a bit, thinking. ‘I probably still would.’ 

‘Well, good to know.’ Courfeyrac wrinkled his eyebrows at him. ‘But tonight, would you be okay to spend your break with me?’ 

Grantaire sighed and stole Courfeyrac’s wine to drink it for him before answering. ‘I would, but Mont thinks you’re a customer. He ain’t gonna be pleased when I don’t make any money and will be gone for a while. Maybe I can take a break in an hour or so.’ 

Courfeyrac nodded. ‘Who’s Mont?’ 

‘Montparnasse. The pretty one by the door.’ Grantaire nodded towards the guy in the leather jacket who was holding guard over the room as if he owned it. For a fact, Grantaire knew it was a shared business. 

‘So, he’s like your boss? Your pimp?’ 

‘Kinda. He’s okay though. Normally.’ 

Courfeyrac eyed him over from their table. ‘You two could be brothers,’ he decided. ‘Except you have more curls and try to look younger and he tries to look tough and older. Let’s go talk.’ He got up and offered Grantaire his hand. What he took, after finishing the wine. 

They made their way back through the room to a Montparnasse who was watching them get near, his arms crossed. 

‘Hello there,’ Courfeyrac smiled and offered him his hand. He awkwardly took it back when Montparnasse didn’t react to it but laughed it off. ‘How much do I owe you if I take R for a walk right now?’ 

‘A walk,’ Montparnasse repeated skeptical. Grantaire sighed and pushed Courfeyrac aside to talk with his boss. 

‘Yeah, this is Courf, he’s a friend. Actually, more like Jehan’s friend… But I want to cash in a break to talk with him.’ 

‘Is this about the reason your eyes are all dark tonight?’ Montparnasse wondered and reached to stroke the side of his face with a slight frown. Grantaire huffed but let him. 

‘How much longer does he have to work tonight?’ Courfeyrac wondered. 

‘I have him till six,’ Montparnasse informed him and then checked his pocket watch for the time. ‘I can miss you for… not more than half an hour. If you’re willing to make up for it later.’ 

‘Sure.’ He took a step back and pulled Courfeyrac away towards the hall before he could change his mind. ‘Wait out front, I’ll see you there.’ 

 

‘And I managed to lock it into my bathroom, but then I completely forgot about it. So in the morning, I sat down to take a piss and there it was! Right next to me. So I'm like, ooh sweet! And take one good hit at it. Blood dripping all over my hand, it was disgust- oh, hey R! Did you bring my coat?’ Courfeyrac pushed himself back onto his feet from where he had been leaning against the wall talking with one of the girls. 

‘Yeah, sorry for walking off with it in the first place.’ Grantaire threw him the jacket. 

‘Nah, that’s fine. I have lots of jackets. Lovely to meet you.’ He kissed Anita’s hand and smiled charming at her before walking away with Grantaire. The girl giggled and winked at him. Grantaire rolled his eyes at her, what made her laugh. 

‘Not that it’s any of my business,’ Courfeyrac said when they were on their way, ‘but can I ask how long you’ve been working there?’ 

‘Almost two years now,’ Grantaire answered and shrugged. ‘It’s no secret.’ 

Courfeyrac whistled but quickly stopped. ‘Sorry, that was probably rude. I just… You look really young.’ 

‘You said so before. I’m twenty-three, that’s like… Almost old. I’m older than Jehan.’ 

‘Yeah, but you look so much younger,’ Courfeyrac explained and shaking his head a bit in disbelieve. ‘Not all the time, but…’ 

‘If you’re gonna complain about me not being properly dressed as well, I’ll just head back. I even put on pants for you, man, stop making a point of it.’ 

‘Girl, you look gorgeous,’ Courfeyrac ensured him, placing an arm around his shoulders to make a point. He just wasn’t sure what point. ‘Don’t blame it on Bahorel, you’re just a bit cuddly and with his study, he’s probably concerned about wrong pictures getting linked to him. Even if nothing was intended by it, it’s really easy to make a picture that with just a little bit imagination… But Rel loves you dearly, I promise you.’ Grantaire just hummed a bit, not really convinced it was just the fear of a wrong image that made Bahorel push him away sometimes. ‘But speaking about pictures, we should speak about pictures.’ 

‘We could but I wouldn’t say we should,’ Grantaire thought. ‘Cause there’s not a lot I’d like to say about it.’ He reached around the man to put his hand in Courfeyrac’s pocket because it was warm and it gave him a reason to keep on walking this close next to him with his arm around his shoulder. He had probably been right about the cuddly part and it was just one of those nights. 

‘The girl, Cosette right? She was a bit upset when you left.’ 

‘I’ll give her a call, apologize. There’s really nothing she did wrong, it just… spooked me, that’s all.’ 

Courfeyrac gave his shoulder a squeeze. ‘Not just you. That Mont guy, does he treat you alright?’ 

‘Mont? Yeah, why?’ 

‘We talked,’ Courfeyrac explained. ‘Rel, Ferre and me. And it’s just that we’re a bit concerned about you.’ Grantaire let go of him and stepped aside so there was room between them as they walked. He ignored the sad look that washed over Courfeyrac’s face and place his hands deep in his own pockets now. 

‘That’s not the friendship we’ve been building,’ Grantaire said determined. ‘If you want to play the savior and hero’s card, go find someone else. I choose this job, I’m okay with it. I moved from Paris to Amsterdam because it’s saver here and Mont is there to look out for me too. He does, he really does. The only problem is that once in a while, you get a bad customer. And I get slightly more of them because I look young and attract the wrong people. Mont deals with them, he doesn’t look the part but he cares. It’s really not different from… when you’re a lawyer and you lose a case. Just a bad day.’ 

‘Except a lawyer doesn’t leave the office with bruises,’ Courfeyrac pointed out carefully, keeping his distance and speaking softer and lower than usual. 

‘No, and he also doesn’t get payed double for it. How about working in… Like, the nurses that work with the really problematic groups that start hitting when they get upset. They have bruises. Or working in a bar and a fight breaks out.’ 

‘Point made,’ Courfeyrac stopped him. ‘I just wanted to let you know that we see and we care for you.’ 

‘Sure. But I’m serious, don’t even think about ‘’saving me’’ or whatever. Don’t interfere, I don’t need those kind of friends.’ 

‘Okay, but on the condition that if something is the matter, you’ll come to us.’ 

‘If something is going on I can’t handle myself and I think your help might just make it better, I’ll tell you.’ 

‘And that’ll have to do,’ Courfeyrac nodded. ‘Except one more thing: Ferre told me to remind you that he’s a doctor and Joly’s a nurse and you can always come to them for help and advice, even if it’s just a stupid bruise. They won’t ask questions. That’s all, I’ll shut up now if you want.’ Grantaire didn’t react, what was enough of a reaction. 

They reached a channel and walked next to the dark water as Grantaire fiddled with his lighter to smoke a cigarette. They walked in silence for a moment when Courfeyrac sighed. 

‘Jeez, I just love Amsterdam.’ 

‘It’s okay,’ Grantaire shrugged. ‘Still like Paris better.’ 

‘How about London?’ 

‘Never been there.’ 

‘What, for real? You’ve never visited the Tower? Or the Eye?’ 

‘Nope,’ Grantaire said and laughed when Courfeyrac burst into telling him all about his last visit. They talked and laughed, Grantaire smoked and slowly started to feel his emotions settle down again. He still felt a bit on edge but the feeling to either burst into tears or get shitfaced subsided enough to enjoy the company and the sleeping city they were walking through. When Courfeyrac wasn’t shouting or joking, he could be pleasant company and he could understand why his best friend was so drawn to this man. They moved around the personal questions without the conversation being too superficial and meaningless. By the time they reached the club again, he was feeling slightly better. 

But he never called.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have three different versions of this chapter, they were all about the same except Courfeyrac didn't seem right. But I think I got the hang of him now, at least I'm pleased with how it turned out. He's an interesting person, lots of different sides to him and he switches between them with ease. Except perhaps his angry side. 
> 
> Hope you agree and you enjoyed reading. I always love to hear your thoughts on the story or answer some questions!
> 
> With love,


	17. About long weeks

Every other Monday, the table got plated for three. It was a regular thing now and Enjolras found himself strangely looking forward to it. Grantaire had showed up to a few more meetings, despite his earlier statement he would never come again, but during meetings he stayed silent. During dinner, he would talk and tell them stories of people he knew, things he had heard. They would discuss the news or whatever came to the table. It gave inside to certain problems Enjolras was not familiar with and it always left him thinking. One evening was enough for a few days’ worth of material to think over. They talked, laughed and eat, but it hardly ever got personal and by the short comments Enjolras could only guess Grantaire’s disbelieve in what he was trying to achieve with his friends. Whenever Grantaire would mention something about himself or his time before he came to Amsterdam, it was always in a none serious joking manner. But even while he hardly knew anything about the man, he started to see him as a friend. One he was looking forward to seeing every other week. 

Despite earlier warnings Grantaire was almost always on time and if he was running late he would give them a call. So when ten minutes passed and there was still no sign of him, Enjolras and Combeferre shared a look. Another five minutes passed and Combeferre picked up his phone to give him a call. He tried two times before he put his phone back down. Another ten minutes later. Still nothing. 

‘Maybe he forgot his phone somewhere,’ Combeferre shrugged and put the food on the table for the two of them to start eating. They eat slow, expecting the doorbell to ring any second. They didn’t speak more than necessary and Enjolras found himself tapping the table. In his head he was already blaming Grantaire for whatever he had done to not make it this evening. He even started to doubt they were friends at all. Combeferre looked calm as ever but Enjolras noticed he took at least twice at long to finish a page in the book he was reading while eating. 

Again, Enjolras tried to call and again there was no answer. 

‘Grantaire lives alone, right?’ Enjolras checked when dinner was over and there was still no sign of him. 

‘I believe he has a roommate, but he never really spoke about it. Why?’ 

‘I was just thinking, what if he’s gotten ill? Maybe we should go check on him.’ Or maybe something else was going on he would find out by visiting. And perhaps a small part of him was using this as a reason to satisfy his curiosity towards the man. 

Combeferre nodded thoughtful. ‘He might also think we were interfering or scare him when we show up together.’ 

‘I’ll go alone,’ Enjolras said, getting up. ‘You have work to be done anyway.’ 

‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’ 

No. ‘Yes, something might be the matter, I should at least check.’ 

‘Alright, but if he tells you to leave, you should come back here.’ 

Enjolras frowned at that. ‘Of course. I’m not going to bully him into talking with me.’ Combeferre gave him a skeptical look that he decided to ignore. 

 

The house wasn’t difficult to find, it was close to the center of Amsterdam. The houses were high but small and the street was too narrow for cars to drive through. There were a lot of bikes though and some attempts to cheer the buildings up by putting flowers outside. He remembered one night when Grantaire had explained to Bossuet how he got home without mistaking himself despite whatever he had taken at night to confuse him. Walking through the street he was able to point at everything Grantaire had named. Apparently he had listened in more closely than he’d like to admit. 

Stopping in front of the green doors he frowned slightly. The woodwork was in a bad shape, always a bad sign for a house. Some small steps lead to the front doors, giving the basement a bit of space to stick out of the ground so it could have windows. There were two doors, one for the downstairs building and one for upstairs. The upstairs one was opened and he could hear voices coming from the stairs that were visible through the opening, so it was clear that wasn’t the door he needed. He only hesitated a moment before he rang the bell and waited. 

It took a while for somebody to reach the door and when it opened Enjolras resisted the urge to take a step back. A slightly overweight white man in a bit too tight tank top stood in front of him, clearly not pleased to see him. His messy hair looked disgusting to say at least. 

‘Sorry to disturb you,’ Enjolras started, trying to be kind. 

‘What do you want?’ His voice was dark and threatening. 

‘I’m looking for Grantaire.’

‘Yeah? Tell Raphael he can open his own door.’ In an impulse Enjolras stepped forward to block the door with his feet before it could be closed. Perhaps a bad decision when the man started swearing at him. 

‘I really must insist,’ Enjolras frowned. ‘Where is he?’ They had a short stare down before the man turned around, leaving the door opened for Enjolras to follow him inside. The smell was the first thing that hit him when he did. It was a combination of smoke, alcohol, food that’s been left out for too long and just rot. 

The man patted the first door in the hallway to indicated Enjolras where to go. ‘Tell him I’m not done with him about this,’ he warned before he disappeared through another door. 

He had not expected Grantaire to actually live in the basement, but clearly he did because behind the door were some stairs leading down. The first things he saw were fairly normal for a basement, a washing machine, old boxes, piping. A thin wall separated the basement in two and Enjolras guesses behind the next door would be Grantaire’s room. So he knocked, and waited. 

‘Grantaire?’ he asked when there was no response. He tried the handle but it appeared to be locked. He knocked louder. 

A mumble that sounded a lot like ‘’what the fuck’’ was heard and then some movement. It still took a while for the door to open. Grantaire looked confused and definitely not happy to see him. It might be mutual because Enjolras was frowning deep when seeing Grantaire, even in the dim light coming out of the room. 

‘You look terrible.’ 

‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ Grantaire said, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. He kept the door mostly closed so his body was blocking Enjolras view of the room. He couldn’t help but notice the man was only wearing a really old shirt and briefs, showing his pale and skinny legs. 

‘It’s Monday.’ It took a moment before Grantaire seemed to realize what that meant. 

‘Oh.’ 

‘Is that really all you have to say about it?’ Enjolras frowned and Grantaire seemed to shrink a bit at his voice. 

‘Please stop yelling.’ 

‘I’m not yelling?’ 

‘Shouting,’ Grantaire sighed. ‘Just stop.’ He closed his eyes for a moment, leaning heavily against the wall. ‘Why are you here?’ 

‘I told you, you didn’t show up and we were worried.’ He tried to speak a bit less loud. 

‘Yeah, but… Wait.’ He looked at Enjolras with eyes that didn’t seem to be awake completely yet. ‘You rang the doorbell.’ 

‘… yes I did.’ 

‘And Daniel let you in.’ 

‘He didn’t introduce himself.’ 

Grantaire groaned and disappeared into the room. Enjolras slowly pushed the door open, revealing the dusty smelling room. The improvised curtains in front of the high windows let through enough light to make out his surroundings. The only true pieces of furniture were a desk, a chair and a bed that now again contained Grantaire. Despite the lack of furniture the room looked crowded, filled with boxes and… garbage. There were bottles everywhere and god knew what else, Enjolras tried not to look too closely, afraid of what he might find. 

‘I’m a dead man,’ Grantaire was groaning from his pillow. 

Enjolras walked to the window and pushed away a towel curtain to reach and open it, trying to catch some fresh air. ‘Don’t be dramatic.’ 

‘I’m not.’ He was silent for a moment. ‘And now I have to pee.’ 

Enjolras rolled his eyes and pushed some of the clothes away so he could sit with him on the bed, it seemed to be the easiest place to clear. ‘Then go. Maybe try clean yourself up a bit so we can have a conversation.’ 

‘Come back in three hours.’ 

‘R, stop being a drama queen.’ 

‘A drama queen?’ Grantaire turned around to face him, what made his feet end up in Enjolras lap. ‘You should try work my hours, see how you’re doing.’ 

Enjolras frowned. ‘I thought you didn’t work Sundays.’ 

‘I had to. Now, be nice and make me some coffee, will you?’ With some effort, Grantaire pushed himself up and made his way to the door. Enjolras was left in confusion, looking around the room for a coffee maker. He didn’t spot one but near the bed on the ground was a kettle and a wooden box. He filled the kettle from the small tap next to the washing machine and took the cleanest looking cup he could find to fill it with instant coffee from the box. When he kneeled down to pick up the coffee his eyes fall on Grantaire’s face again. This time multiple versions of him, staring at him from the page of a magazine. Enjolras frowned and picked it up. He sat to read it while he waited for Grantaire to return. 

The coffee looked and smelled disgusting but Grantaire seemed pleased when he returned so apparently he had done it right. Grantaire sat on the bed and tugged the blanket around himself before he accepted the cup. 

‘So I was-‘ Enjolras started but stopped when Granaire raised his hand. 

‘Please. This is like, the middle of the night for me. Give me a moment to wake up.’ 

Enjolras shrugged. ‘As you wish.’ He leaned back against the wall and watched Grantaire at the other side of the bed slowly drink his coffee. He looked very small, half hidden under the thick blanket. The circles under his eyes had grown since he had last seen him and the short sleeves of his shirt revealed a few bruises on his arms. 

‘I never noticed the words,’ Enjolras said soft when his eye catched the tattoo Grantaire had wrapped around his upper arm. The detailed thin line went around his arm three times before it disappeared into stars. The design was elegant but sharp and sitting this close he could see the small words written in the lines. 

‘Are you checking me out?’ Grantaire said, half grinning now. He sounded a bit more awake indeed. ‘Cause I can tell you, I have looked better.’ 

‘I know,’ Enjolras nodded, leaning in a bit in an attempt to read his arm. 

‘Don’t bother, it’s Latin.’ 

Enjolras looked at him impressed. ‘You speak Latin?’ 

‘Since it’s a dead language, you can’t really speak it, can you? And I can’t read, so no. I have no idea what it says either, Jehan wrote it.’ 

‘Yeah, sure. And you never bothered to ask,’ Enjolras snorted. 

‘That’s the beauty of it. I don’t know what it says but I know it’s something good because Jehan wrote it. I know his intentions, and that’s fine by me. Do you have tattoo’s?’ 

Enjolras shook his head. ‘I was even too afraid to get my ears pierced.’   
Grantaire pushed his own hair back and revealed the four tiny holes in his ear. There was only one ring today though. 

‘How old were you when you got them?’ Enjolras wondered. 

‘The first one was for my twelfth birthday,’ Grantaire said. ‘My mom gifted them because I had wanted them for ages. My stepfather was super angry so of course I got my second pair a few months later. Third in Paris and fourth last year. Mont wants me to get more, but I’m not so sure. Maybe another one in my eye brows would be nice.’ 

‘Doesn’t it hurt?’ 

Grantaire shrugs. ‘It stings, that’s it. Are you afraid of needles?’ 

‘Not really.’ 

‘Then why were you afraid?’ 

‘Have you seen those guns they’re holding for it?’ Enjolras shivers, what made Grantaire chuckle soft. 

‘I won’t mind coming along to hold your hand.’ 

Enjolras looked at him. ‘Would you?’ 

‘Yeah…’ He yawned. ‘We could go tomorrow.’ 

‘I have to think about it.’ 

‘Sure you do.’ Grantaire put his cup down and used both hands to rub his eyes. ‘But I don’t think you’re here to ask this.’ 

So they were ready for the real conversation. ‘You didn’t show and didn’t answer your phone,’ he explained. ‘It’s never happened.’ 

Grantaire patted his knee. ‘Thanks for being worried, but it does happen sometimes. Mont keeps hold of my phone when I’m too… gone.’ 

‘Gone?’ 

Grantaire shrugs. ‘Stoned, high, drunk… passed out. All at the same time. You know, gone.’ 

‘And Montparnasse is okay with you doing that?’ Enjolras said in disbelieve. 

‘Not just okay, he’s the supplier. Don’t freak out, he knows his stuff and I trust him. He’ll look after me because I’m money to him. Maybe he’s even my friend.’ 

Enjolras did looked freaked out. ‘Don’t you know how dangerous that could be? How are you supposed to indicate your boundaries when you’re like that? Don’t you know how rape drugs work?’ 

Grantaire’s eyes went dark in anger when he looked at him. ‘Fuck off, I know more about drugs than you do. I know more about sex, boundaries, dangers, BDSM, anything. So I will not have you going around judging me for things you know nothing about.’ 

It was a good point he made but it took a moment for Enjolras to get over the shock of Grantaire’s outburst. Meanwhile Grantaire was frowning at the door. 

‘I’m sorry,’ Enjolras said soft. He got a nod in return. ‘Will you tell me what happened yesterday?’ 

‘Nothing happened. Or well, the usual happened. I just normally don’t do Sunday’s cause I do Friday and Saturday. Now I did four days in a row to get this week off, because Mont will be gone all week. And I don’t trust any of the others as much as I trust Mont, so I avoid working for them. Because I know what I’m doing and I’m responsible.’ 

‘You made your point,’ Enjolras mumbled, slightly embarrassed. 

‘Good. I should have called you and Combeferre but I forgot. I just had a bit too much on my mind with the whole Cosette thing and all of that.’ 

Recognizing the name, Enjolras picked up the magazine from where he had placed it on the bed and flipped through it to find the article again. Before he could find it, Grantaire ripped it out of his hands. 

‘Where did you find that?’ he nearly shouted in shock. 

‘It was just lying on the ground, I wasn’t aware of it’s great value.’ 

With a strong arm, Grantaire threw it against the wall at the other side of the room. It made a sad noise when it hit the bottles on the ground. So far for great value. ‘You do not touch anything you don’t have permission for.’

‘That would be easier if you’d clean this place,’ Enjolras remarked, thinking of all the things he touched in here he would rather not have. 

‘We can’t all have a housekeeper. Now please tell me you have a better reason to wake me up besides chit chat, cruel words and giving Daniel a reason to pick a fight with me. Next time, knock on the window.’ 

Enjolras nodded and let a silence fall to make sure Grantaire was done being angry. ‘Have you eaten?’ 

‘What?’ Grantaire looked at him in complete confusion. 

‘You know, food.’ The rolling eyes he got made him smile. ‘You should come to our apartment, I’ll warm you some dinner and you can sleep over.’ Grantaire seemed to consider it for a moment. 

‘No catch?’ he checked. 

‘I’m just asking you to come over, as a friend. You can sleep off whatever you’re on and enjoy our kitchen.’ Grantaire still didn’t seem confinced. ‘We have better coffee.’ 

‘Okay, let me put on some clothes.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope your summer was as great as mine! And I hope your nose didn't get burned so badly... A few more chapters are partly written during my time off so I hope I can give you more updates soon. 
> 
> I'm also planning on updating the tags and warnings, but I'm not so familiar with all of that. So give me a warning if you need information beforehand, that would help me a lot. Comment or contact me on: https://deargrantaire.tumblr.com/
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!


	18. Not all birds fly

There was something comforting about sitting behind someone on their bike. Being able to hold onto them, trusting them to keep you save and bring you to the right place. In Paris he had made a point of owning a bike and using it as his most important way of transportation, but somehow he had stopped doing so in Amsterdam. The bike that still felt like his own was Michiel’s now and the few he had used here had been crappy to begin with. Maybe biking felt too much like a tourist thing and the streets felt too crowded for it. But there was of course also the physical bit that wasn’t always what he needed after a day of work. He’d much rather walk or sit save in the tram. 

Another good aspect of his current situation was how he was allowed to place his arm around Enjolras waist for stability and to hide against his back for the breeze that made him feel cold. He could smell the products Enjolras used and it reminded him of the easy evenings spend in his apartment. A good meal and pleasant company could sometimes do wonders. Maybe that had been the reason he had given in on spending the night over despite how bad he was feeling. He was longing for the company of his friends and honestly, even simply Enjolras presence seemed to make his life better and made everything look so much more bright and easy. Grantaire didn’t take pity calls but Enjolras was his friend and maybe he needed it. But the fact that he accepted the offer so quickly and that Enjolras came looking for him just because he didn’t answer his phone fast enough was also proof he needed to get better in living, to show him he was capable of looking after himself. Maybe even do something for Enjolras, something more than making posters and voicing opinions he didn’t want to hear. 

At the apartment Grantaire leaned against the wall while Enjolras put his bike in the storage room. The world was spinning slightly and his heartbeat brought pain in a steady rhythm to his head. 

‘Are you alright?’ Enjolras asked when he got back. 

‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ Grantaire sighed, pushing himself off the wall to walk upstairs with Enjolras. The front door never seemed to be locked and Combeferre didn’t look very surprised when Grantaire entered after Enjolras. Despite his head he could feel the sting in his heart when he realized Combeferre had not expected any better from him either. The man waved him towards the couch and came to sit next to him. 

‘I’m fine,’ Grantaire said again when Combeferre placed his cold hand on his forehead. 

‘I’m just making sure you are,’ Combeferre explained kind, looking into his eyes now. 

‘If they seem off, that’s probably cause I’m still a bit stoned or something.’ 

Combeferre nodded in agreement. ‘Do you mind if I’d listen to your chest?’ 

‘Actually, yes. I know I look like crap but I’m honestly fine, just need some sleep is all.’ Combeferre didn’t look very convinced. ‘If I don’t look any better tomorrow I’ll do whatever you want me to,’ Grantaire sighed, pushing his hand away. ‘Is that enough?’ 

‘It is,’ Combeferre nodded. ‘If you eat and drink now.’ 

‘That’s why I’m here, cause you’re such a great cook.’ It didn’t sound as smooth as it should have been but it made Combeferre smile non the less. 

Enjolras had been standing next to the couch, following their conversation with a worried frown, but now he jumped up and quickly walked to the kitchen to warm up something that soon smelled delicious. Eating it was no problem at all, despite his awkward company, and after drinking a lot of water they seemed convinced he wouldn’t fall apart. Curled up on the soft couch Grantaire watched the news with them, feeling much calmer somehow now he had eaten something. The spinning had stopped and his head wasn’t bursting in two anymore. That combined with the comfortable pillows, it was no real wonder he dosed off halfway through the weather. 

Combeferre actually walked him to the library and took out the things Grantaire had used the first time he had stayed over. Grantaire stepped out of his shoes and sat down on the bed. 

‘Ferre?’ he asked. ‘You’re my friend, right?’ 

‘I am,’ Combeferre said slightly confused and came to sit next to him. 

Grantaire nodded to himself. ‘Thank you.’ 

‘For what?’ Combeferre smiled. 

‘Being my friend. Can I give you a hug?’ 

‘You can.’ Combeferre opened his arms and Grantaire quickly moved in to place his arms around him and rest his head on his shoulder. 

‘Next time I’ll call,’ he promised. 

Combeferre squeezed him tight to his chest. ‘You call and I’ll come get you wherever you are.’ 

 

It was around two when Grantaire made an appearance. Enjolras was sitting at the kitchen table and using all its space for the work he was doing. He could hear the door open slowly and soft footsteps coming closer. 

‘Good morning,’ he greeted without looking up. The footsteps stopped for a moment as if they hesitated before making their way into the kitchen. He tried to block out the quiet sounds to concentrate but gave up when Grantaire appeared in his vision. 

‘Have you eaten lunch yet?’ Once again he wondered how that man could be so bold and loud one moment and quiet as a mouse, even when speaking, the next. 

‘No,’ he sighed, leaning back in the chair. ‘But I should.’ Grantaire nodded and set to work to collect all the needs for lunch while Enjolras cleared some space at the table. 

‘How did you sleep?’ he asked when they were both seated opposite each other. 

Grantaire shrugged. ‘Like dead. You?’ 

‘Hm… Alright I guess.’ Enjolras poked in his bread with his knife, deep in thought, until Grantaire coughed slightly to get attention. 

‘I’m rather sure that slice is already dead. Can I ask what’s on your mind?’ 

‘Combeferre told me to let you rest.’ 

Grantaire smiled a bit. ‘That’s nice of him. Now tell me.’ 

‘It’s this protest,’ Enjolras sighed, giving in instantly. ‘I’m not sure you remember, but-‘ 

‘This Friday, you are going to stand in front of a building and look angry. I remember, go on.’ 

Enjolras looked at him more serious now. ‘I feel like I’m missing something. I have arranged everything we’ve discussed but I’m still anxious I’ve overlooked something and I have to present it tonight to some people whose support we need. Could you please listen to the plan and point out what is wrong with it?’ 

‘Is that why you came looking for me last night?’ Grantaire asked curious. 

‘Partly? I really value your opinion, Grantaire, you seem to spot flaws so easily.’ 

‘It’s a talent,’ Grantaire nodded, sipping his tea. His nails were painted a dark shade of blue, Enjolras noticed, and it suited the light cup. It did not suit the rest of his appearance at the moment, his hair and clothing were simply put a mess and his eyes were still too dark. But he looked rested and most of all calm. He himself did not look calm but he needed it to do this right. So he needed Grantaire. 

‘Will you come with me tonight?’ he burst out. 

‘Tonight?’ Grantaire frowned. ‘To present the plan? Why?’ 

‘Because… If I can convince you, we can convince them together. I know we can. Will you please come?’ 

For a moment it was silent while Enjolras waited for Grantaire to make up his mind. Slowly, the man nodded. ‘I don’t think I’ll be of much help, but if you want me there, I’ll be there.’ 

 

Never before had Grantaire seen Courfeyrac this serious. For the short time he had known the man, he had been happy, entertaining, sad or angry, but never before serious. It suited him better then Grantaire had anticipated. For himself, being Enjolras adviser didn’t suit him at all. He kept telling himself Enjolras had asked him to be there and that Enjolras did not pick his company lightly. Besides from them three, there had been seven others. They had introduced themselves at the beginning but he had forgotten most of their names instantly. Normally he was better at remembering such things but it seemed the nerves that came with these strange circumstances had gotten the better of him. 

The location hadn’t helped either. They were at the OBA, the Public Library of Amsterdam, not far from the central station. Grantaire had never set foot inside before, no surprise there. The building was nice, though. Very spacious and interesting. But all those reminders of his biggest flaw had not helped his nerves. At least the actual conversation had taken place at the restaurant at the top floor with the most incredible view. It was clouded but still a warm summer day. 

‘Mind if I join you?’ 

Grantaire looked up from where he was leaning over the balcony looking at the city to see one of the people who had joined the conversation earlier. It had ended about ten minutes ago but Enjolras was still talking over details with two woman while Courfeyrac was chatting and laughing with the others. 

‘Not at all. Are you from Amsterdam?’ 

The bold man laughed, coming to stand next to him. ‘Not even close. I’m from Groningen, but I moved here four years ago. Best decision I ever made.’ 

‘Groningen is probably the furthest place you could come from,’ Grantaire chuckled. ‘Except perhaps Maastricht.’ 

‘Maastricht is always far away, no matter where you are.’ 

Grantaire laughed. During the conversation the man had not spoken much except to voice some good questions but Grantaire had liked him anyway. He and Courfeyrac seemed to get along really well too. He was about their age and had a friendly face. 

‘How about you? You don’t sound like you’re from here either.’ 

‘I grew up in a small place in Twente,’ Grantaire shrugged. ‘But my mother is French, that’s probably most of the accent you hear.’ 

‘What? You grew up speaking French in Twente?’ His laugh was loud but friendly. He looked over the balcony as well, but hold onto the railing as if he was afraid the thing would suddenly break down. 

‘Jep,’ Grantaire chuckled. ‘French is my first language. I lived in Paris for a while but I like Amsterdam better.’ 

‘So, how do you know Enjolras? You seemed very well informed about the plans, are you part of his group?’ 

Grantaire shrugged again. ‘Kind of? Most of my friends are. But he talked about nothing else all afternoon, so it’s no wonder I’m well informed.’ He hesitated. ‘Not to be rude, but I’ve forgotten your name.’ 

The man seemed to be confused for a moment, what made Grantaire feel confused as well. ‘I’m Bossuet Lesgle,’ he said after a moment. ‘But most people know me as L’Aigle.’ 

Grantaire chuckled. ‘As in eagle, smart. But what do I call you?’ 

‘You have really never heard it before?’ Bossuet said curious. ‘And you’re friends with Enjolras?’ 

‘Should he have mentioned it?’ 

‘I don’t know? Courfeyrac says he hardly ever shuts up about it.’ 

‘Courfeyrac himself hardly ever shuts up,’ Grantaire explained. ‘I guess I’m not such a close friend to Enjolras, I haven’t known him that long.’ 

‘You will be a really close friend if you keep doing such an awesome job of helping out!’ Courfeyrac came walking up from behind and placed his arms strong around him for a moment, kissing his cheek loudly. ‘You were awesome, R, really glad you could come.’ 

‘I hardly did anything,’ Grantaire protested. 

‘Except remember every detail and having answers to every possible question! And you know what the weirdest thing is, Bos? He can’t even read, so he remembers everything! He’s like the best hard drive in the world-‘ He let out a shriek when Grantaire kicked his leg. 

‘First, not true, I don’t remember everything. Not even close. Second, my reading has nothing to do with anything so just leave it out of the conversation please.’ 

Courfeyrac looked at him hurt. ‘I meant nothing wrong by it.’ 

‘I know, but it’s not your story to tell, Courf,’ Grantaire sighed. ‘Please stop saying those things.’ 

‘You kicked me.’ He definitely did look like a kicked puppy and Grantaire raised his eyebrow. 

‘It’s proven to be the most efficient way to shut you up.’ 

That made Bossuet laugh loudly and he patted Courfeyrac shoulder. ‘Don’t take it badly, my friend, but it can be difficult to make you stop talking.’ 

Courfeyrac was still sulking when one of the woman came walking toward them. ‘Bossuet, darling, we should get going.’ 

The man nodded and looked at Grantaire for a bit too long, definitely considering. ‘Grantaire, why don’t you come over?’ 

‘What?’ Grantaire said. ‘Now?’ 

‘Yeah, why not? I think we would get along.’ 

‘Oh, you definitely will!’ Courfeyrac called out happy. ‘R’s a lot of fun, when he’s not kicking people that is.’ 

‘I didn’t even kick that hard,’ Grantaire protested. 

‘It still hurts.’ 

‘Do you want me to kiss it better?’ he offered grinning. 

‘Bossuet-‘ 

‘I know, Chetta. Grantaire, it would be my honor.’ 

Grantaire gave Courfeyrac a kiss on his cheek. ‘Hard to refuse an invitation from such a gentleman. Say goodbye to Enjolras for me?’ 

‘I will! See you soon, R!’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite the autumn storms here, a few sunny chapters are coming up! Also, Bossuet and Musichetta are in the story, finally! And do I have plans for them... 
> 
>  
> 
> I have not been completely absent here all summer, I have written a short series about WW2 and the Amis as a way to proces conversations I had with my father. It was weird and difficult to write but also interesting and strangely helpful. If you're looking for more to read, you could try it and let me know what you think. It's been a bit of an experiment so I'd love to read some thought on it. 
> 
> Love as always,


	19. The Westerpark

It was a sunny day, but mostly it was a warm day and they were sitting outside in the park to eat. Combeferre had packed their dinner into a bag and together with their two guests they had crossed the street towards the Westerpark. It used to be a gas plant but was transformed into a well sized and green park used for various things. Enjolras always enjoyed living close to it and whenever they could they would take out their meals to eat them at a bench or just sitting in the grass. 

Today was a lovely day to do so and he had his two best friends with him to enjoy it with. And there was also Grantaire. After last week’s events, having collected him from his basement to him helping out at the planning of their protest, he would have thought they were on good terms. He would even have called Grantaire one of his more close friends. But ever since he arrived this afternoon for their usual hangout and dinner Enjolras had been annoyed by him. He couldn’t quiet catch on what it was, but something was the matter. Grantaire was looking good, in all honesty. His usual tired eyes looked lively and bright, making them shine even more. He was wearing a dress like shirt and light leggings that suited him incredibly well and showed off his fine legs, as if he had stepped out of a magazine. The light was catching in his hair as he leaned back on the blanket they were all sitting on and the green of the trees at the other side of the field was able to compliment his eyes, what really should not be possible. Of course Enjolras was no person to notice those things. But maybe it was because he noticed that it annoyed him. 

The other thing that annoyed him were his easy stories that made both Courfeyrac and Combeferre laugh. It wasn’t difficult to make Courfeyrac laugh of course, all you had to do was say pudding, but Combeferre was a different story. Normally he would smile fondly or say something nice, but not often was he found laughing this much. It was a nice conversation and Enjolras felt left out. 

‘I mean, how was I supposed to know he was famous or anything,’ Grantaire chuckled while Courfeyrac had fallen down in the grass laughing. ‘It’s not like I spend much time on YouTube. I wouldn’t even know how to spell his name.’ 

‘If you had actually paid attention at the meetings you attended, you would have known,’ Enjolras couldn’t help but remark. He was just pointing it out, but already Combeferre gave him a warning look. That confirmed him not being part of this conversation. At least Grantaire didn’t seem to mind his statement. 

‘Well, I had never connected the dots anyway,’ he shrugged it off. ‘And truth be told, he’s much funnier in real live than he is online.’ 

‘Oh my god, he is so funny,’ Courfeyrac chipped in, sitting up again and whipping the greens off his glittery shirt. ‘Have you heard his Elvis impression yet? I laughed my ass off, honestly. There’s nothing left of it.’ To prove it he rolled over to wiggle his behinds. Of course he did and of course Grantaire thought it funny. 

‘I appreciate how political involved he is,’ Enjolras commented. ‘How he’s using his influence for something he thinks important.’ 

‘Ah, but something you also think’s important,’ Grantaire said, raising an eyebrow and grinning. ‘If he had complimented Trump or Wilders you could say he’s using his power for worse.’ 

‘He wouldn’t be able to make such good arguments if this were about approving of Wilders,’ Enjolras frowned. ‘Thereby, I would like to believe that if he said such things, he would have less followers because it would be an insane statement.’ 

‘Of course you would like to believe that,’ Grantaire nodded, picking up his plate to continue eating as if the conversation were done. Of course this conversation was not done. 

‘How do you mean?’ Enjolras demanded. ‘Are you saying my beliefs are invalid?’ 

Grantaire shrugged. ‘All I’m saying is that you tent to make the world a more beautiful place than it is. If Lesgle were to state things you think of as foolish you would be surprised how many people will buy it just because he’s famous.’ 

‘But he’s famous for the person he is, with his opinions and all!’ 

‘And he’s a lovely person with good opinions he uses for things we are grateful for,’ Combeferre said firm and Courfeyrac chipped in to start a conversation about Bossuets political video’s. That was a very clear sign to stop but Enjolras couldn’t help but to hold Grantaire’s gaze for just a bit too long. On his end, Grantaire was mostly looking deep in thought while looking back but suddenly seemed to shake himself out of it to join in the conversation again. 

It annoyed him that Grantaire had been in a video. Not just one but three of them. Because he had stayed over for almost a week, it was obvious he would end up in the weekly vlog. Bossuet had made a whole deal out of Grantaire being one of those friends you invite over for dinner and stays for three weeks. And he had done so in an endearing way that really made Grantaire seem like the most incredible guy while it had been Enjolras who had gotten him out of bed not even a day earlier. He had been walking around Bossuet’s house like he had done so since they were children together. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought they had known each other for ages. 

But he had also appeared in one of the real video’s, the one about their protest while Grantaire hadn’t even showed up last Friday. And to make it worse, there was a video of just him on Bossuet’s side channel. Grantaire sitting in the sunny garden with a guitar, singing the A-team. Of course Enjolras hadn’t really heard the song before but after looking it up it appeared to be one of Ed Sheerans early hits. After uploading it the group chat had exploded with his friends yelling at how amazing it was while it was just frustrating. How could he sing about his work like he cared about how bad it was he was doing while never showing any regret when talking about it. Although he could appreciate the honesty and ease when Grantaire spoke about his way of making money, it didn’t fit with the way he had been singing the song. It made him question how trustworthy Grantaire really was for showing so many different faces. 

Deep in thought and frustration, he had failed to notice Grantaire was staring at him again. 

‘What?’ Enjolras asked, his tone stopping the conversation between Courfeyrac and Combeferre instantly. 

‘Something’s bothering you, isn’t it?’ Grantaire guessed, frowning slightly. 

‘Nothing of your concern.’ 

Grantaire laughed at that. ‘I think it is, but I really don’t know what it is. Last I saw you, it felt like we truly were friends and now I feel like I walked into the wrong party.’ 

‘Well I’m sorry if you feel left out,’ Enjolras snorted. ‘Strange, after spending the whole dinner talking with my two best friends.’ 

Now the man was certainly frowning. ‘I’m sorry? I’m not supposed to talk with your friends? Don’t they have a say in this?’ 

‘How can you claim to be my friend while I know so little about you?’ Enjolras said, crossing his arms in what in his head looked like an impressive stand while it truly made him look more like a mocking child. 

‘You know nothing about me? Haven’t you been paying attention? I told you nearly everything!’ 

‘Really? I know what you do for a living, but I don’t know and I don’t understand why you do it.’ 

‘Because obvious all I am is my job,’ Grantaire snorted angry. ‘That’s all you see when you look at me, isn’t it? A disgusting-‘ 

‘Grantaire, Enjolras, stop it,’ Combeferre interfered, frowning at both of them. ‘This is going nowhere. I don’t even understand what this conversation is about.’ 

Enjolras looked over at his housemate and oldest friend, who was looking confused and even worried. Courfeyrac next to him mostly looked shocked. 

‘This is about us not knowing anything about Raphael Grantaire.’ From the corner of his eye he could see Grantaire flinch at the mention of his first name, just another mystery. 

‘So?’ Combeferre asked. 

‘I want to ask him some questions,’ Enjolras explained, sounding calm but still convinced this was somehow his right. 

Grantaire had used the occasion to light another cigarette and Enjolras felt a slight triumph to see his hands shaking. At least he had left an impression.   
‘If you have questions, ask them,’ the man shrugged. None off the nerves his hands showed was audibly in his voice. ‘Just don’t expect me to answer everything, you wouldn’t either.’ 

‘Be decent,’ Combeferre warned him, watching him closely. Enjolras made eye contact with both him and Courfeyrac before looking back at Grantaire. 

‘Where are you from?’ he asked. 

‘Small town in the east, called Laag Zuthem. Hardly a few hundred people live there, and that’s counting the farms. That’s where I was born and where I grew up. Why?’ 

‘Just interested. Why did you leave?’ 

Grantaire rolled his eyes. ‘Because it sucked and everybody there hates me, does it really matter?’ 

‘How about your parents?’ Enjolras pressed on. 

‘What about them?’ 

‘Just… tell me about them. Who are they, where are they now, just normal things.’ 

‘My mom’s from the north of France but she moved here when she got pregnant and married my stepfather. She’s… not been well the last few years but I have good contact with her. I don’t know who my father is and neither… He’s not and has never been part of my life, so as far as I’m concerned he doesn’t exist, that’s all there is to it.’

‘But you have a stepfather, right?’ Enjolras remembered. 

‘Yes. We don’t get along, that’s all there is to say. Now tell me about your parents.’ 

Enjolras was still processing information and was caught off guard. ‘My parents?’ 

‘Yes, Enjolras. The two people who fucked and made you.’ Courfeyrac let out a snort but quickly stopped when Enjolras glanced at him. 

‘There’s not much to say either,’ Enjolras shrugged. 

‘Bullshit. Are they still together?’ 

‘Of course. I mean, I didn’t mean that!’ he quickly tried to correct because even he knew how wrong that had sounded and the angry way Grantaire was smoking now confirmed it. ‘It’s just… In their culture, there is no such thing as divorce or even being together without being married.’ 

‘Rich people culture?’ 

‘No, it’s…’ 

‘Oh, please Enjy, just spill it,’ Courfeyrac chuckled. ‘Enjolras is basically royal.’ 

‘I am not!’ Enjolras quickly called out. 

‘You are related to the king,’ Courfeyrac was so friendly to remind him. ‘So you are, I looked it up.’ 

‘Oh my god,’ Grantaire said and started laughing. ‘You’re shitting me. You preach democracy and who knows what but you’re royal.’ 

‘I’m not royal!’ 

‘But he is on the list to inherit the crown,’ Courfeyrac grinned, looking very pleased with himself. 

‘There are at least twenty people above me,’ Enjolras defended. ‘So it’s not like I’ll- that’s not even the point!’ 

‘You actually counted?’ Grantaire laughed. ‘This is the best story I’ve heard in ages. Tell me, do you have a title?’ 

Enjolras crossed his arms again. ‘If I had, I wouldn’t tell you.’ 

‘Play by the rules, Enjolras,’ Combeferre commented, seeming just a bit too entertained for his liking. ‘You just interrogated him about his family, tell him something about yours.’ 

‘Why don’t you tell him first, see how funny that is,’ Enjolras challenged him. 

Combeferre shrugged and turned to Grantaire. ‘My family is noble, so I am too. But there’s not much left except a title and some of the things that come with it. I have an aunt who owns the last manor house, but it’s relatively small with hardly any land. That’s about the last thing my family owns and it’s not going to be passed down to me.’ 

‘But you are noble,’ Grantaire asked. 

‘Officially I am, but there’s nothing to show for it except a family weapon in an old book. Of course there are some privileges and connections my parents still hold, so I had a very protected and save childhood in a decent house. But it wasn’t a castle or anything like it, just a normal house.’ 

‘He’s fallen nobility,’ Courfeyrac chuckled. 

‘And Courfeyrac is fake nobility,’ Combeferre was happy to add. 

‘Totally am,’ Courfeyrac grinned. ‘I just like old stuff, so does my uncle. He’s really rich and he spend it on things the nobles like Ferre have no money to pay for any more.’ 

Grantaire took a moment to try and form an answer to this, but shook his head. ‘This is just insane,’ was his conclusion. ‘But what about Enjolras?’ 

‘Yes, Enjy, what about you?’ Courfeyrac chuckled. 

‘I did not choose my family,’ Enjolras reminded him. 

‘Neither did I,’ Grantaire nodded. ‘But there they are, so tell me about them.’ 

Enjolras sighed. ‘I don’t like talking about it, because I am very much against all they’re standing for. And they think the same about me, so we’re not on good terms. There are several titles and a few houses. I will inherit a lot and I’m not planning on keeping it. The whole system should have died out at least a hundred years ago, but they’re too stubborn and longing for gone times to let it all go. I wish to not be part of that world any longer. I do not use my name or my father’s contacts to get ahead in this world. I do accept as much money as he’s willing to give me because it’s my believe it is in better hands with me than it is with him. He uses is to support a corrupt and old system, I intend to use it for the better.’ 

‘And he does,’ Combeferre confirmed. 

‘I believe you,’ Grantaire nodded.


	20. Another day

It had been a long and hot day and all Enjolras wanted when he got home was a shower and a good book. He had been looking forward to it for most of the day in the office, how he would open the windows to let a bit of a breeze inside, how he would put his favourite chair in the shadow but with his feet on a cushion in the sun so they would be nice and warm. He had even thought to remember to give their wild variety of plants some extra water to survive the sudden heat. Maybe they could even hold off dinner till it was a bit cooler so they could eat outside in the park, that would be great too. At his internship a lot of his colleagues had spent the day talking about plans for their summer holidays. Vincent, who had three small kids, had already booked a holiday house in a park that had entertainment for the children so ‘’he could enjoy his free time’’. Being from a posh family where his parents couldn’t have been less bothered to spend time with him when he was little that all sounded a bit too familiar to be comfortable with. Luckily Lucy had seemed to agree with him and picked up the conversation with Vincent to talk about the things he did like to do with his children. At the end of the day the three of them had made a small list for Vincent to do with his offspring during the break, what made Enjolras feel better but also worse because he had no plans whatsoever. Both him and Combeferre were planning on working most of their break, either on their internships or picking up charity work all around Amsterdam. That was also a nice foresight but talking with Vincent and Lucy had made Enjolras realise he wouldn’t mind doing a proper vacation. One without his family. Nothing big or fancy, maybe just go to the Ardennes for a few days, a week tops. He was thinking of a way to break the topic to Combeferre while walking up to their shared apartment. The walk and the stairs had brought him to sweat more than he’d like and once again he was looking forward to that shower. 

Even at the door he could hear the soft sounds of a piano and a voice softly humming. Enjolras frowned slightly, Combeferre didn’t play very often and this would be a bad moment to pick it up again. He had been looking forward for a bit of quiet and this strongly interfered with his plans. He sighted soft and opened the door. 

Due to their big windows the room was very light when he got in and it smelled vaguely of cigarette smoke, that was explained when next to Combeferre at the keyboard was sitting Grantaire, in his favourite chair of all things. He had his legs dangling over the armrest and was intensely listening to something over his headphones, eyes closed. It was clear the heat had been bothering him too for he was only wearing a loose tank top and pants that were so short there was no change he was wearing any boxers underneath them and for a moment Enjolras found himself wondering what kind of underwear the man would be wearing. But he shook it off and closed the door behind him. In his state of mild annoyance for things not going as he had planned he closed it a bit too loud and Grantaire shot up and opened his eyes. When he saw Enjolras he smiled and took the headphones off. 

‘Hey,’ he greeted. His voice was just as bright and clear as the sun outside. 

Combeferre looked around as well and nodded at Enjolras. ‘How was work? I hope your office has some air conditioning.’ 

‘It was long and tiring,’ Enjolras said, walking to the kitchen for a cold drink. ‘What are you doing, it’s not Monday is it?’ 

‘I wasn’t aware I could only come around on Monday,’ Grantaire chuckled, either not hearing the annoyance or choosing to ignore it. 

‘I thought Monday was the only off time you had.’ 

Grantaire snorted. ‘Even I wouldn’t survive that much… work. But if you must know, Mont send me home because it’s too damn hot for…’ He stopped talking to think of a way to phrase it but was saved by Combeferre. 

‘We get it, R, thank you.’ 

Grantaire smiled a bit shy and fiddled with the string of his headphone. 

‘So, what brought you here?’ Enjolras tried to pick up the conversation again. 

‘Oh, the boat is burning hot right now, I think Rel moved in with Courf. So I wasn’t really looking forward for going there and Cosette is busy…’ 

‘And Bossuet asked him to preform another song,’ Combeferre added when Grantaire didn’t indicate he was going to explain himself any further. ‘I’m helping him practise.’ 

That explained the keyboard and humming. ‘Must you do that here?’ he couldn’t help but remark. 

‘I could-‘ 

‘Yes, Enjolras, we must,’ Combeferre interrupted, giving him a look that he meant it. Grantaire was now biting his fingernail what made him look even more nervous. 

‘Right, great,’ Enjolras huffed, picking up his glass. ‘I’ll just be in my room then.’ 

‘Don’t mind him,’ he heard Combeferre say to Grantaire before he closed his door. ‘He’s just tired.’ 

Well, even if he was, he felt like he had every right to be slightly annoyed when he showed up in his own house to find out a man he wasn’t even sure he liked half of the time was planning on making a lot of noise while all he wanted to do was enjoy the quiet. After mocking and finishing his drink he decided to just carry on with his plan as if the others weren’t there. When he stepped under the shower he could hear bits of piano and bits of singing, but always interrupted to talk about something. That made it even more annoying to listen to and he did his best to ignore it. Showering did improve his mood and made it easier to block out the sounds. He turned it cold to make up for the fact he was showering way longer than he normally would allow himself, but with this weather it was nice to feel cold for a bit so he didn’t mind. His thoughts went back to the summer holiday and he decided that wherever they would go it shouldn’t be too sunny and hot, he couldn’t bare the warmth. Maybe Scandinavian would be nice. When he turned the shower off he could hear the piano music coming from their living room. This time Combeferre played a whole intro before Grantaire joined in with a hesitant voice. He stopped to listen and after a moment could hear out what sounded like: ‘’I wanna kiss you, make you feel alright, I’m just so tired to share my nights. I wanna cry-‘’. Combeferre stopped playing. 

‘This is okay for the first bit,’ he said. ‘But the second should be more powerful already, just a bit. I know how powerful you can sing, so I think you should bring some of it in already. Makes it more interesting.’ Grantaire’s response to this was inaudible but Combeferre could be heard just the better. ‘Never mind Enjolras, you’re here to practise and I can help you better if you give it everything. Besides, I happen to know Enjolras really liked the last song you did.’ Enjolras couldn’t help but roll his eyes at that because best friends could be so annoying sometimes. He dried himself off but didn’t bother drying his hair for just sweeping it around in this heat would dry it perfectly well. He put on some clothes before emerging back out and heading for the kitchen for a new drink, not so much to listen in. Just that drinking was important in this weather. Combeferre had just started playing again and Grantaire was standing next to him now, smiling nervous when seeing Enjolras but Combeferre urged him to keep his concentration with the music. From the kitchen table Enjolras could see Grantaire closing his eyes and placing his hands on his stomach to take a deep breath while listening to the piano. When he started singing it was tender and sweet and told a very clear story. His English accent was nice to listen to and he pronounced all the words correctly. When he hit the refrain Enjolras was very sure this song would be called ‘Another love’ even though he didn’t think he had heard it before. Combeferre slowed down at the refrain but picked up the speed and volume after that and Grantaire sang with more determination and power now. He was using his whole body to give power to his words and there was no way Enjolras could look away anymore. 

When the song ended everybody stood still, listening to the fade out of the piano. Grantaire breathed in deep and let his shoulders fall when he breathed out. For a moment he seemed really relaxed, as if a heavy weight had been lifted off him, literally. He seemed light, serious and real. And Enjolras couldn’t help but stare, trying to remember this picture forever. 

‘I don’t think we should do that again,’ Grantaire broke the moment. ‘I feel really sorry for your neighbours, forcing them to listen to me screaming. They’ll think you killed a cat in here.’ 

‘Grantaire,’ Enjolras said and immediately Grantaire looked over at him, eyes just a bit too big as if he had forgotten Enjolras was even there. ‘That was really good,’ he said in all honesty. Grantaire let out a nervous laugh and looked away. 

‘It was,’ Combeferre agreed, looking at Grantaire smiling. ‘You didn’t hold back, you hit all the notes and your articulation was nearly perfect.’ 

‘How can it be you’re not completely out of breath,’ Enjolras wondered, smiling when he saw Grantaire started to blush. 

‘I am, a bit,’ Grantaire admitted, growing more uncomfortable every second he was standing there. But before Enjolras could get up to help him with that, Combeferre already had and gave Grantaire a tight hug. That was something Enjolras had not been expecting but apparently Grantaire wasn’t so shocked, since the man just laughed and hugged him back. Enjolras didn’t know Combeferre to be a very cuddly person and he knew Combeferre rather well he would say. So this was unexpected and he wasn’t sure he liked it. It also made him feel left out of a special moment. Luckily it didn’t last very long. Grantaire did seem more happy and at ease after the hug. 

‘If you do it like you did right now, you’ll be just fine,’ Combeferre ensured him, making Grantaire smile a bit. 

‘Yeah, thanks for helping out.’ 

‘Any time. Seriously, I really enjoyed that,’ Combeferre chuckled. ‘I don’t play enough and it’s nice getting back at it, specially together with a friend. You look like you could use a drink.’ 

‘I could use a really strong one,’ Grantaire chuckled. ‘But I guess you’re just going to offer me more green ice tea.’ 

Combeferre smiled at him. ‘Do you want some more ice tea?’ 

‘I’d love to.’ 

Combeferre gathered their glasses and went for a refill while Grantaire went to sit at the kitchen table with Enjolras. ‘I’m sorry I disturbed your afternoon.’ 

‘Don’t worry about that, I was a bit of a pain earlier but I really don’t mind you hanging around here.’ 

Grantaire smiled. ‘Good. I kind of enjoy hanging around here.’ 

Enjolras chuckled and hold up his glass so Combeferre could refill him as well. For a moment all conversation was centred around the tactical aspects of the song they had just played, what Enjolras knew very little about because most of all he had never heard the original. But both of them did their best to get him involved in the conversation. At some point Enjolras found Combeferre looking at him for just a bit too long before he turned his attention to Grantaire. 

‘Grantaire can I ask you a personal question?’ 

‘Sure,’ Grantaire shrugged, looking at Combeferre. 

‘I never heard you about dating,’ Combeferre started. ‘And I was just wondering if you are seeing someone.’ 

‘Oh,’ Grantaire said and laughed soft. ‘No, I don’t really date. My profession tends to scare people off. And if that doesn’t than my personality will.’ 

‘Have you never dated?’ 

‘I have, just not since Paris.’ 

Combeferre nodded. ‘And what will be more likely, a man or a woman?’ 

‘Oh, definitely a man. I don’t mind woman but… Nah. How about you?’ 

‘Definitely a woman,’ Combeferre laughed. ‘But I haven’t dated anyone seriously in a long time either.’ 

‘I’ll take you off my list of potential relationship material,’ Grantaire promised him and looked at Enjolras. ‘And you?’ 

Enjolras was a bit taken back at this sudden change in topic and the ease that they spoke about it. ‘Eh, I’m not dating anyone either.’ 

‘Should I take you off my list too?’ 

‘What?’ Enjolras asked confused. 

‘My list of- Do you fancy man? Are you gay?’ 

At least that was a clear question. ‘Well, yes?’ 

‘Good to know,’ Grantaire chuckled and winked. ‘We should date.’ 

Now he was really confused and it must be showing because both Grantaire and Combeferre started laughing. ‘I’m not keeping up with this conversation at all,’ Enjolras complained. 

‘No shit,’ Grantaire chuckled. ‘But it’s alright. I can take you off my list as well if you want to.’ 

‘No,’ he said a bit too quick. ‘I mean, it’s fine. It’s all fine with me.’ The confusion didn’t end when Grantaire started blushing slightly and Combeferre was looking just a bit too pleased with himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And once again, I'm writing about a heatwave while it's snowing outside... 
> 
> I'm not such a great Tom Odell fan, but I heard this song and I could defniately picture Grantaire singing it. And then it was really easy to write, so I just went along with it. It turned out kinda cute, I think. 
> 
> I'm struggling with one chapter, so I decided to just give you guys this one first, for I have already finished the two after. But this one chapter... Ugh. It's nice writing it, but it's difficult. And I changed it so many times by now, I'm scared I'll get my plot confused. Although, I probably already have for I never have a clear outline of what I'm writing and I started this thing two years ago ;) If there are any contradictions in the story, please let me know! 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this one! Next one will be here fast, that I can promise.


	21. It's not really an ocean

‘Fashionably late, who would have thought.’ Grantaire grinned at him from the open kitchen where he had been pouring himself a glass of something colorful and probably sweet. 

‘I was working,’ Enjolras explained, shrugging out of his coat and placing it on the low cabinet together with his bag. He raised his hand when Courfeyrac waved at him from the slightly raised part of the room where the couches and the tv were gathered along with their friends. There was still a lot of light coming in through the big windows that gave a nice view on the water and made the open room look even bigger. 

‘Well, I think you’re too late to chip in on the film discussion, but again, I’m not sure you wanted to be part of that in the first place,’ Grantaire chuckled. ‘You want something to drink?’ 

It was difficult not to smile at Grantaire when he was chatty and happy. His eyes were bright and clear and the shirt he was wearing looked clean and relatively new. It was filled with stars, the design was interesting and suited him well. A moment too late he realized he was probably staring, confirmed by the knowing look Grantaire was giving him. 

‘You look nice,’ he explained and slightly blushed when he heard his own words. 

‘Thanks,’ Grantaire smiled and blushed ever so slightly. ‘Jehan did my nails, he’ll probably do yours too if you asked.’ 

‘Let me see?’ Enjolras crossed the small distance from the front door to the kitchen and took the hand Grantaire extended to him. His elegant, slightly cold hand. His long nails were painted black with stars as if looking at the night sky. ‘This is really nice, suits your shirt great too.’ 

‘It better be, for all the time I had to sit still for it.’ 

‘I thought you were the artist,’ Enjolras said. 

Grantaire shrugged. ‘I guess I’m better with chalk and coal than I am with paint. Anyway, drink?’ 

‘Yeah…’ Enjolras looked around the kitchen, a bit lost. He had been at Bahorels house before, several times, but he would be glad if he remembered where the toilet was. ‘Is there coffee?’ 

‘Jep.’ He opened the right kitchen cabinet on the first try to get out a mug and set to making Enjolras some nice smelling coffee. 

‘You seem to know your way around,’ Enjolras said, partly to keep the easy conversation going. 

Grantaire shrugged. ‘I’ve been here quit a lot lately. Either here or at Bossuet’s.’

‘How so?’ 

Another shrug. ‘I got into a bit of a fight with Daniel, like two weeks ago I think?’ 

‘Your housemate?’ 

‘… I guess he is my housemate? Or maybe my… landlord?’ The confusion on his face was apparently enough to make Grantaire laugh and explain. ‘He’s my cousin. Or, not really because he’s family of my stepfather. So we don’t share blood or anything.’ 

‘Right,’ Enjolras nodded, still confused. 

‘He rented me the room, what was nice when I first got here. But we don’t get along, like, at all.’ 

‘What did you fight about?’ Enjolras asked. Grantaire leaned against the counter and just looked at him for a moment. The coffee machine gave a beep but Grantaire didn’t move, what made Enjolras worried he had crossed a line. ‘Or, am I not supposed to ask?’ 

‘It’s fine. It wasn’t really anything important, we fight all the time. But he hit me, that’s what made it different.’ 

‘What?’ Enjolras blurted out.

‘Hush,’ Grantaire said, glancing over at the others, but they still seemed too invested in their discussion to have noticed. ‘Let’s not make a big deal out of it, alright? Bahorel already offered to beat him up for me and give me the spare room, and I think I might as well move in here.’ 

‘Not make a deal out of it, are you serious? The man abused you, Grantaire!’ Grantaire gave him a warning look and he quickly lowered his voice again. ‘Has he hit you before?’ 

‘A few times,’ Grantaire shrugged. 

Enjolras just stared at him for a moment. ‘You’re insane you were still living there.’ 

‘It’s not like you have lots of choice when you’re living in Amsterdam, do you?’ Grantaire returned. 

‘You could have come live with us, we have a spare room as well.’ 

‘You have a library,’ Grantaire corrected. ‘And besides, my schedule would drive you insane, getting home at impossible hours and all of that. I don’t think Bahorel will be that bothered by it, so I’d rather move in here. Besides, I like the water.’ He finally turned around, handed Enjolras the mug and picked up his own glass again. ‘So I’m fine, don’t worry.’ He smiled and turned to walk to the others, but Enjolras stopped him. 

‘Promise me you will take someone with you when you go and collect your things.’ 

‘I can take care of myself.’ 

‘Grantaire, please.’ 

Grantaire smiled and reached to stroke Enjolras cheek. ‘You’re cute. I will, I’m not going to drag all that shit up those stairs by myself.’ Enjolras was taken back for a moment, both by the touch and the look in Grantaire’s eyes. Grantaire made use of that by taking his hand and pressing a quick kiss on it before walking over to their friends. 

 

Even though he had arrived late, Cosette was even later and Grantaire jumped up from where he had been sitting with his back against Bahorels legs to greet her when the door opened. 

‘You made it!’ he said happy and hugged her tight before taking her over to the others. ‘Do you know everybody?’ 

‘I know most, I think,’ she said and walked over to their group, smiling kindly. ‘Hello guys, Eponine, Jehan.’ 

‘That’s Bahorel, it’s his boat,’ Grantaire said, pointing at the big man who took in half a couch just by refusing to sit up properly. 

‘My aunts boat, actually.’ 

‘Thanks for letting me come over.’ 

Bahorel smiled and raised his glass to her. 

‘That’s Joly, he’s a funny little thing. Next to him-‘ 

‘L’Aigle, aren’t you?’ she said with a bit more excitement in her voice than she wanted to let on. 

‘Jep,’ Bossuet laughed awkward. ‘You can call me Bossuet though.’ 

‘I really admire how you use your talents for a good cause,’ Cosette remarked and Enjolras found himself nodding along with that. 

‘Oh, thank you,’ Bossuet said, fiddling with his hands and nearly dropping the glass he was holding. Luckily he was saved by Joly who was sitting next to him. Bossuet smiled sheepishly at him, blushing slightly while Joly softly laughed.

‘Okay, moving on, Combeferre and Enjolras. They’re in charge of this group but they’ll deny it. Mostly it’s Combeferre keeping his head cool and Enjolras getting angry at everything even slightly wrong.’ Enjolras frowned at that and opened his mouth to make a remark about the difference between making a good point and being angry and about how their group worked without a real leader, but Grantaire blew him a kiss and again he was unable to do anything else but be silent. 

‘That’s Courfeyrac, the center of all, and his bestie Gavroche. And… Marius, right?’ Grantaire looked questioning at the new man Courfeyrac had brought along, who nodded blushing. Enjolras was surprised Grantaire had even remembered his name as he had only whispered it vaguely when introducing himself to everybody and then had stayed mostly silent so far. And now with Cosette’s eyes on him he seemed to blush even more. 

‘And… what is your name?’ Marius asked, stumbling through his words. 

‘Oh, I’m so sorry, I totally forgot to introduce myself,’ Cosette said, blushing too now and not taking her eyes of Marius. ‘My name is Cosette, I’m a friend of Grantaire. And…’ She quickly went to sit in the chair next to Marius, smoothing her wide skirt as she did. ‘I’m a photography student. I’m sorry if this might be a bit straight forward, but I’m looking for a new model. Somebody to use in a new series I’m developing.’ 

Marius eyes grew big. ‘And you want me for that?’ 

Cosette nodded eagerly. ‘Yes, I think that would be perfect. And it would also be a great way to get to know each other better.’ 

‘Yes! I mean, if you think that will help with your study?’ 

‘Cosette, you’re unbelievable,’ Grantaire groaned. ‘I’ve been trying that pick up line for ages and it never works, and look at you.’ 

‘The difference is, R, I am also honest when I’m saying it,’ Cosette said, grinning mischievously what caused a lot of laughing. Grantaire let himself fall on the couch in between Bahorel and Feuilly, where there was really not enough space for him. 

‘I’m beaten. I’m going to die alone and lonely. Bahorel, will you marry me please? I’ll move in with you right away.’ 

‘Of course, darling, we’ll get a cat and everything,’ Bahorel promised him, patting him on his head before Feuilly pushed him off the couch to claim back his space. 

‘Oh my god, can y’all just be silent?’ Gavroche called out from where he was sitting almost clued to the tv. 

‘Yeah, some of us are actually trying to watch this,’ Courfeyrac chipped in and then high fived Gavroche. 

To Enjolras surprise things actually did calm down, at least a bit. When the movie ended Courfeyrac insisted on playing twister. Bahorel insisted twister was meant to be played drunk but Eponine killed him with a deadly glare and he remained from remarking about alcohol until Gavroche’s bedtime. But a twister tournament was held among several of their friends anyway. Gavroche beat Grantaire in the final, although Enjolras suspected it was by design. When the clock hit twelve Gavroche just disappeared upstairs without anyone telling him to. Eponine made them wait another half hour before the alcohol game was back on. From that moment forth the party became more like a normal party and less like a party Enjolras actually wanted to be at. So he decided it had been nice but it was time for him to leave. 

‘Hey, are you going already?’ He was just unlocking his bike when Grantaire appeared in the front door. ‘Without telling anyone?’ 

‘I told Combeferre,’ Enjolras said. Or actually, he had made eye contact with him, but that was mostly the same. ‘And I didn’t feel like dealing with people begging me to stay for no reason, so please don’t.’ 

Grantaire stepped outside and closed the door behind him. ‘I won’t if you don’t want me to. Is it okay if I walk with you for a moment?’ He reached into his pocket. 

‘Not if you smoke while doing so,’ Enjolras said quickly, what effectively stopped Grantaire in his movement. Their eyes locked for a moment. 

‘But I can if I won’t smoke,’ Grantaire said, looking questioning for conformation. 

Enjolras nodded. ‘That’s what I said, isn’t it?’ 

‘I guess so? Normally people say something like that to keep you from walking along.’ 

The unsure look on Grantaire’s face made Enjolras itch to do something about it, but he couldn’t figure out what would be the best thing to say and therefore didn’t say anything for a moment too long, making the whole situation slightly awkward. He shook it off by breaking eye contact and attaching the red light at the back of his bike. 

‘Are you going home as well?’ Enjolras asked, hoping that was indication enough for Grantaire to follow him. He took the hint and together they started walking through the dim lit street. 

‘I think I’ll go back, but it’s warm inside and it’s quiet out here.’ 

Enjolras couldn’t help but laugh at that. 

‘Relatively quiet,’ Grantaire chuckled. ‘And I wanted to smoke, but I’ll postpone that one.’ 

They moved from walking on the street to the sidewalk to let a car with loud music passed pass them in the narrow street. Enjolras let his bike ride on the street so he could walk next to Grantaire, only occasionally interrupted by going around a street light. ‘How long have you been smoking?’ 

‘Really long,’ Grantaire shrugged. ‘I guess twelve, when I moved schools. I used to steal cigarettes from my brothers just because I could. My stepfather was really against me smoking, and I was really against everything he said, so I smoked. But I mostly stopped when I met Jehan, picked it up again in Paris. Now I smoke two or three a day, so it’s not that bad. It’s mostly a good excuse to leave a party. And it's calming.’ 

‘And it kills you,’ Enjolras couldn’t help but add. 

‘I know, it says so right here.’ Grantaire hold up the package, being so kind to cover most of the picture of black lungs with his hands. In bold letters it said: SMOKING IS DEADLY. One of the most inefficient ways the government had tried to discourage smoking. Enjolras didn’t know what to say to that so they said nothing for a moment. When he looked to his side he saw Grantaire frowning and deep in thought. 

‘I smoked a cigarette once.’ Grantaire looked up confused when the silence was broken but then laughed. 

‘Really?’ 

‘No, not really I guess,’ Enjolras admitted. ‘I tried and spend the whole night coughing. It was just embarrassing, please don’t tell anyone.’ 

‘I won’t,’ Grantaire chuckled. ‘How about drugs?’ 

‘The smoking story is the most exciting I can give you, I’m sorry,’ Enjolras smiled and he felt the strange urge to take Grantaire’s hand as they were walking there side by side. 

‘That’s just cute,’ Grantaire thought. ‘Sometimes you almost trick me into thinking you’re sweet and innocent.’ 

‘Hey, I can be sweet,’ Enjolras protested. 

‘Yeah, but not innocent.’ 

For a moment he could swear he felt Grantaire’s hand brushing against his and he couldn’t help but smile. When they reached the larger street they automatically stopped walking and just stood there for a moment, unsure what to do. 

‘Will you come around tomorrow?’ 

Grantaire sighed soft. ‘That would have been nice. I have to work.’ 

‘Not the whole day I’m sure? You could come by for dinner.’ But Grantaire was already shaking his head. 

‘I’d rather not.’ He was biting his lip and looked at his shoes. ‘Enjolras…’ he started unsure. 

He waited for Grantaire to work up the courage to continue till it became clear he wouldn’t. ‘If you have a question, please just ask,’ he said soft. ‘I always do.’ 

Another sigh. ‘Maybe later.’ 

Enjolras nodded. ‘I saw you cheated with twister.’ 

Grantaire laughed and looked at his eyes again and he smiled. ‘And of course you would mind if I cheated on a stupid game like that.’ 

‘You could have won!’ 

Grantaire looked at him with an amused shine in his eyes and then started laughing again. A true laugh that made him seem real and beautiful in the street lights. ‘Maybe you should join in next time and I’ll show you what I can do.’ 

‘Thanks but no thanks, I enjoy watching too much.’ He got onto his bike and looked back at Grantaire, who was already playing with his package. ‘I’ll see you Monday?’ 

‘Of course. Take care, alright?’ 

Enjolras smiled at him and waved when he drove off, leaving the dark silhouette behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, did I struggle with this chapter. But I really wanted to write a nice bit about the whole group just having a good time, together with some more longing actions between E and R. But now, I'm really happy with how this turned out! I think I did the best I could at the moment and I hope you enjoyed it. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! It's a long road and we're not there yet. I still enjoy writing this and as long as I do, I'll keep on going. Luckily, there are also still people reading it, what even makes me enjoy writing it more. <3


	22. Good times

The new housing arrangements had been working out well and on Mondays and the few times Grantaire actually showed up at a meeting, he looked more healthy. Bahorel was fine with it as well because apparently Grantaire was three times the cook he himself never was. It was nice to see them become even better friends and Bahorel was able to drag Grantaire to more social gatherings so all of them saw a lot more of him. But of all the people in their growing group, Enjolras probably saw most of Grantaire when he was around. It was hard to keep his eyes off him when he was looking happy. 

Cosette and Marius, after being an official thing together, became regulars to the meetings as well. They sat together a lot and Marius seemed to struggle with being part of the group. Of course it helped he knew Courfeyrac and Courfeyrac was the centre of them all, but one to one he didn’t speak to many people. Strangely enough, Enjolras saw him talking with Grantaire before or after meetings regularly. He could see Grantaire was teasing and joking, there was something in his body language that made it very clear he was not being serious, even from a distance. It seemed to be mostly Grantaire who talked a lot while Marius just smiled, nodded or laughed. But they both seemed to be okay with this and they both seemed more relaxed for it. Grantaire was wearing his easy smile, the way he smiled when he forgot someone might be watching. 

The more they saw of Cosette and Marius, the less they saw of Eponine. Truth be told, she still terrified Enjolras slightly, so he didn’t ask after her. 

As well as the happy couple, Bossuet visited as often as he could. As an important figure with a time consuming job, Enjolras understood perfectly well he couldn’t always make it and he couldn’t possibly hold it against him. So he tried not to. Luckily Bossuet was easy company and just like their first meeting he proved to be serious when needed to. Much to Joly’s delight, he brought one of his employees with him. She was a tall young woman with the ability to make everybody fall slightly in love with her. Every meeting his friends would gather around her to get a bit of her attention, although very soon it became clear most of her attention would go to Joly and Eponine. He didn’t want to break this up for it made his friends happy, so Enjolras himself had not spoken many words with Musichetta. He didn’t mind, her contributions to the discussion were of value and everybody seemed to be on their best behaviour around her, so this settlement suited Enjolras just fine. 

 

There was one person who did not seem happy with this summer. Feuilly was more absent than before and even on a simple text it could take a day for him to reply. Not that Enjolras thought everybody should be online all the time (although it would be very efficient and useful) but it was just very unlike Feuilly and it made him worry. When voicing his feelings he got whimpered off. He knew Feuilly could handle himself, if there was one person he knew who could survive everything and walk through fire with just a scratch, it would be Feuilly. But still, Feuilly was his friend and he would like to help. 

Luckily, or unluckily, he did get to help when a fire broke out in Feuilly’s flat and he had to stay over at their place for a few days. Not that living together made them see him more often, he was mostly off doing one of his three jobs, but at least it made Enjolras feel useful. After four days, Feuilly moved out to go live with Bahorel as well. Feeling slightly betrayed, Enjolras helped him move his stuff to the boat. 

Feuilly hold open the door so Enjolras could carry a box inside. The big living space was airy for the doors leading to the small floating platform on the water were opened. Somebody had moved the couches outside and Enjolras could see Grantaire lying on one in the sun. He was smoking and looked completely relaxed. And most of all, he wasn’t wearing a shirt. 

‘You’re going to get burned,’ Feuilly said as sort of greeting when they walked in. 

‘I won’t, I’m not a ginger,’ Grantaire chuckled. ‘Whatever it is I am, keeps me from getting sunburn. If Jehan’s still in the bathroom, can you send him here?’ 

‘Hey Grantaire,’ Enjolras greeted, feeling left out of the conversation. All he got was a nod and a grin. 

‘Come on, let’s see how far Rel got with cleaning out the dump.’ Feuilly lifted his box again and lead the way to the back of the boat. It really was just a house on water, Enjolras thought as he walked through the small hallway. There were two small rooms downstairs and a bathroom. Upon the ground floor a bigger room had been build, occupied by Bahorel. The bathroom door was opened and revealed a giggling Jehan looking at himself in the mirror. 

‘J, R is looking for you,’ Feuilly said when walking by. When Jehan looked over at them Enjolras had to stop himself from taking a step back. His eyes were huge and dark and he looked completely out of it. 

‘Hey! I didn’t know you guys were coming!’ He stepped forward and threw himself in Feuilly’s arms, who rolled his eyes and patted him on his back. ‘I would have invited you to the party! R and I are having a party.’ 

‘Yeah, we noticed. Maybe we’ll come by later, just go to R now okay?’ 

Jehan frowned and hold him on arm’s length, looking at him really serious. ‘It’s okay if you don’t want to come to the party. That’s not really your thing, is it? You look really tired, Fewfew. Are you okay?’ 

‘I’m fine, Jehan, I just have some things to do.’ 

‘You always have things to do. But that’s just you, isn’t it? Doing things. And then doing more things… And stuff.’ Jehan nodded and looked at the ceiling. ‘Stuff is real. Hey, I should go find R. I love you Few.’ He gave him a kiss on his mouth before moving past Enjolras, probably on his way to Grantaire. 

‘Is he really stoned right now?’ Enjolras asked confused. ‘It’s hardly noon.’ 

‘Are we talking about Jehan?’ Apparently Grantaire wasn’t the only one without a shirt on this boat. Bahorel stood leaning in the doorway of the smallest of both rooms downstairs. ‘R promised he wouldn’t bother anyone.’ 

‘You’re alright with him walking around your house like this?’ Enjolras wondered, still confused. 

Bahorel shrugged. ‘R is trip sitting him. So he’s his responsibility.’ 

‘You don’t want someone like Jehan walking around the city like this on his own,’ Feuilly added, walking into the room. Enjolras followed him and put the box in the empty corner. Half of the small room was still filled with boxes and other shit that belonged to Bahorel. 

‘Grantaire offered to switch rooms, he seems to think you own more stuff than he does, but I doubt it. And I’m going to move all this stuff upstairs, don’t worry about it.’ 

‘No, it’s fine. If we could just put up my bed and give me a place to hang my clothes, then I’m settled,’ Feuilly said, looking around for a moment and then opening both windows. 

When they walked back to the car to get the bed, somebody had put on loud music and Grantaire and Jehan were dancing. Grantaire was watching Jehan with amusement written on his face and let him turn and move along with the slow music. Jehan was laughing and looked as if he was floating on air and movement only. Grantaire smiled when he saw Enjolras watching, so of course he quickly walked after the other two. 

It only took two trips to the car to get Feuilly’s things moved in. And it took all three of them to assembly the bed and move a small closet downstairs for Feuilly to put his clothes in. When they were finished they were all sweating and hot and in real need of a break. So they went back to the living room where the music had turned soft and a couch had been placed in the shadow. Jehan was curled around Grantaire and from a distance it looked as if they were making out. But Grantaire noticed them walking up and softly pushed Jehan off, who then went to lie with his head in Grantaire’s lap. Being a good host, Bahorel got them all cold drinks and they joined Grantaire and Jehan outside. There was a small breeze coming up from the water. It didn’t smell great but it felt refreshing. Enjolras accepted the alcohol free beer Bahorel handed him and sat down in a chair. 

‘Thanks, mate,’ Grantaire said, accepting the same kind of beer and taking a swig before looking at Feuilly. ‘All settled in?’ 

‘Jep.’ Feuilly lifted Jehans legs and sat down on the couch as well. He placed the cold glass against Jehans bare leg, who then laughed and shivered. 

‘Do it again,’ he pleaded. Feuilly chuckled and moved the hand that had been holding the glass up and down Jehans leg. ‘That feels so funny,’ Feuilly giggled. ‘It’s like my skin is… My skin is baking with cold.’ He sat up and looked at Grantaire. ‘Can I have a drink too?’ 

‘No,’ Grantaire chuckled. 

‘Don’t you think drinking will be good for him?’ Enjolras frowned. It was only logical, but the look Grantaire gave him really indicated he had said something stupid. 

‘I know how to deal with Jehan. But I’ll get him an ice cream.’ He gave Jehan a kiss on the lips before getting up and returning with some colourful frozen water. According to Jehan it was the best fucking thing he had ever eaten. 

Enjolras had to admit that watching Jehan eating an ice cream as if it was a fucking miracle and the best invention humans ever made was kind of funny. Or maybe not funny. Endearing was a better word. But it still made him uncomfortable watching one of his friends so out of control over their own mind. And what was even worse was how completely comfortable Grantaire seemed with the whole situation. He seemed to know exactly what to do to make Jehan enjoy himself and keep things in control. For now that mostly meant keeping Jehan on the couch so he wouldn’t overheat and rubbing his back. And when Enjolras was talking with Bahorel and Feuilly about their last meeting, Grantaire let Jehan kiss him. It wasn’t a serious or intense kiss, but it was disturbing because Jehan had a boyfriend and he didn’t know what he was doing. Not even speaking about them being out in the open with other people around.

‘How can you just let him do that?’ Enjolras hissed when Feuilly took Jehan to see his new room. 

‘What? Kiss me?’ Grantaire asked, moving back to sitting in the sun. 

‘Yes! He clearly doesn’t know what he’s doing right now. I thought Courfeyrac was your friend.’ 

Grantaire put his hand above his eyes to block the sun so he could look at Enjolras. ‘You know, for somebody as smart as you, you really don’t know your friends very well, do you?’ 

‘What is that supposed to mean?’ 

‘Jehan and Courf aren’t… exclusive. Although, I haven’t had sex with Jehan in ages, so maybe that’s a new boundary they agreed on. But they don’t think kissing counts as cheating. Courf knows Jehan is here and he’s okay with it. Jehan just really likes being kissed, especially now.’ 

Enjolras crossed his arms, letting it sink in for a moment. ‘Do you like kissing Jehan?’ he asked. Apparently that’s a funny question. 

‘Have you ever done drugs? Do you even know how intense you experience everything? I promise you, kissing really is one of the best feelings in the world when you are.’ 

‘But you’re not stoned right now, are you?’ 

‘Completely sober, that’s the deal.’ 

‘So, do you like kissing Jehan? I can see he likes it, but do you?’ 

Grantaire just looked at him for a moment. He shrugged. ‘I’m… I don’t mind it? I like how it makes him feel, he looks really happy when I kiss him. I think that’s enough reason for me.’ 

Enjolras frowned a bit but kept himself from saying any more about it. For a moment he just watched Grantaire enjoy the sun. 

‘I’m wondering,’ he started and Grantaire hummed for him to keep going. ‘You don’t have to answer, but did you… sleep with Courfeyrac?’ Grantaire opened his eyes again and for a moment just looked at him. 

‘Yes,’ he said. 

Enjolras nodded. ‘And Jehan.’ 

‘And Jehan.’ 

‘Anyone else?’ 

‘Are you sure you want to know? I’m a slut, I sleep with a lot of people.’ 

‘You’re not a slut.’ 

‘I am. A professional one even. I like kissing and sex, especially with people I care about. It’s not a big deal for me.’ 

‘For some people it is.’ 

Grantaire nodded. ‘I know. I keep that in mind before I sleep with them.’ 

For a moment they just looked at each other. ‘Bahorel and Bossuet,’ Grantaire told him. ‘Maybe you’d count Joly too.’ 

‘And… does everyone know?’ Enjolras wondered. 

Grantaire just shrugged. ‘It’s not a secret, but most people don’t go around telling everybody who they slept with. Even less so with me.’ 

‘But you told me.’ 

‘You asked. But why, Enjolras? Why do you need to know?’ 

Why indeed. ‘I’m trying to understand.’ 

‘There’s nothing wrong with having sex.’

‘Of course there isn’t,’ Enjolras said quickly. ‘That’s not what this is about. And I’m not judging you or anything. This is just all very… new to me. I don’t know what to make of it yet.’ 

Grantaire nodded. ‘For most people sex is part of being in a relationship, right?’ 

‘I think so,’ Enjolras agreed. 

‘Okay. So, the real question is, with what I do, with my work and all, can I even be in a relationship.’ 

‘Of course you can,’ Enjolras said immediately. He opened his mouth to say more but Grantaire made him stop. 

‘Just not with you?’ 

Enjolras only noticed he had been biting his lip when he tasted blood. ‘I’m just trying to understand it. This, you, you and Jehan, everything.’ 

‘I think it’s just what you agree upon together,’ Grantaire said. ‘Like Jehan and Courf. And I think it’d be difficult to have a relationship. More difficult than… people with normal jobs. But Enjolras? Thank you. For asking.’ 

Enjolras nodded and didn’t start up the conversation again for he had enough to think about for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, last weekend I was at this party and there was a group of young writers talking about their online fanfic stuff. Of course there are more people reading English than Dutch fanfic, but hearing them talk about the number of times they've been read, it made me realise that if I invited everybody who left me kudos over to my place, you guys wouldn't fit. Not even close, I have a tiny apartment. A hundred people, that's really a lot of people! And it's been clicked on more than 2000 times! It's so weird to think about it. So thanks again! And thanks for the lovely messages I keep getting. 
> 
> On a more serious note: I'm not sure what warnings to give you guys. I put some general ones in the tags but I don't put them in front of every chapter or anything. But I also don't want to trigger anyone on accident or whatever... So, if you have any advice on the matter, please tell me!  
> For now, I'm just going to ask you guys to contact me if you need upfront information about certain topics and I'll help best as I can, I'll put this at the front of the fic too. Find me at: www.deargrantaire.tumblr.com 
> 
> One more thing! Don't do drugs. :) I know Amsterdam is kinda famous for drugs and you can smell the joints all over town, but I believe it's mostly tourists who are to blame for that. It's also illegal and dangerous so please be careful. But if you're interested (or a writer) go check out the youtube channel called drugslab. They try out different types of drugs and show how they react to it, but they do it very save and careful. 
> 
> <3


	23. Early mornings

One of the best thing about living together with two man who didn’t have the word privacy in their dictionary was none of them ever locked the bathroom and you could walk in to take a piss while someone else was showering. What was great, because they only had one toilet and sometimes you really had to go. 

‘Bahorel?’ Feuilly asked over the sound of streaming water. 

‘Nope,’ Grantaire said, adding more water sound to that. ‘But I heard some bear like noises coming from upstairs, so I think he’s awake.’ 

‘So this is going to be one of those rare moments where we all have breakfast together,’ Feuilly concluded, turning off the shower. He stepped out and made a half attempt not to drip on Grantaire while reaching for a towel. Grantaire ducked out of his way as best as possible in the small room they had. 

‘Hey R, before I don’t see you for another week or so, I meant to ask you. What’s the deal with you and Enjolras?’ 

Grantaire tried not to frown and used flushing the toilet as an excuse to postpone his answer. ‘There is no deal, not really. We spend time together sometimes, mostly with Ferre there too.’ He moved past Feuilly again to wash his hands. The bathroom was a bit crowded with two people in it. 

‘Yeah, but… you’re a special friend, right?’ Now Grantaire frowned and made eye contact with Feuilly in the mirror. 

‘Are you asking if we’re having sex?’ 

‘No, that’s not what I mean,’ Feuilly said, shaking his head. ‘I’m not saying this right. I would be really surprised if you had sex with Enjolras. Not that I would mind or anything,’ he added quickly. Grantaire watched amused while Feuilly rubbed the towel over his hair while thinking of a way to ask what he wanted to ask. ‘I think I know Enjolras well enough to know he’s not sleeping with you. Or am I wrong about that?’ 

‘Oh, no, you’re really not,’ Grantaire confirmed. ‘Not that I haven’t tried, at the beginning. But… I don’t know, he’s different.’ 

‘That’s a way of putting it,’ Feuilly chuckled. 

Suddenly the door was thrown open and Bahorels face appeared. ‘Are you bitches done gossiping? I actually plated the table and I’m looking forward to my weekly ten minute time spend with my roommates so hurry up.’ 

‘Good morning to you too, Rel,’ Grantaire chuckled, placing his arms around his neck and kissing him on the mouth before going to the kitchen. Living here truly was the best thing that ever happened to him. 

 

He reconsidered that when Feuilly, now dressed, sat down at the table as well. ‘So what I was trying to ask,’ he just went on uninterrupted, ‘are you in love with Enjolras?’ 

‘Oh,’ Bahorel said pleased, turning to Grantaire. ‘This is actually something I’m really interested in, please tell, R.’ 

‘You two are the worst,’ Grantaire frowned, crossing his arms. He was cornered and worse, they were actually kind about it. 

‘You love us,’ Bahorel reminded him. ‘Now please answer.’ 

‘I don’t know,’ Grantaire shrugged, looking at his tea. ‘I don’t think so?’ 

‘Do you like being around him?’ Feuilly asked. 

‘Yes?’ 

‘Does your stomach go all weird when he says something nice to you?’ Bahorel continued, making Grantaire laugh. 

‘Is he the first thing on your mind every morning when you wake up?’ Feuilly went on smiling. 

‘I don’t wake up in the morning.’ 

‘Do you want to fuck him?’ 

‘I don’t think that’s a valid question here, Rel,’ Feuilly interrupted. 

Bahorel nodded. ‘You’re right. Do you want to fuck him more than others? Or maybe different than you want to fuck others? Or do you want to, make love, to him?’ He wiggled his eyebrows, making Grantaire laugh again. 

‘Are you just making fun of me, or do you actually want me to answer?’ Grantaire wondered. Feuilly and Bahorel shared a look. 

‘We want you to answer,’ Feuilly said. ‘But only if you want to, we won’t make you, we’re not that mean. I think. Probably not.’ 

‘So?’ Bahorel pressed, all attention to Grantaire again. Surprising enough, it didn’t even make him that uncomfortable. Maybe living together could have that effect on you. 

‘I don’t really want to sleep with him,’ he said honest. ‘I think. I mean, he’s really the most beautiful person I’ve ever met and I think the sex could be… mindblowing.’ 

Feuilly let out a chuckle. ‘Sorry, go on.’ 

Grantaire shrugged again. ‘But he’s different, he doesn’t sleep around. So I think having sex with him would actually mean something.’ 

‘So the question is,’ Bahorel continued, ‘do you want to mean something to him?’ 

This was getting tricky and strangely difficult. ‘I think I’m going to bed.’ 

Both of his housemates started to protest at that and Grantaire let himself be persuaded to stay by the offer to leave pancakes in the refrigerator for him to warm up when he woke. 

‘You really want to spend our rare morning together to talk about my non existing love life?’ 

Bahorel thought about that for a short moment. ‘Yeah. Yeah, I do. You Few?’ 

‘Totally,’ Feuilly grinned. ‘Best conversation I had in weeks. And besides, I think it’s good for you to talk about this.’ 

‘We care about you, man,’ Bahorel said, placing an arm around him and just hugging him a bit too rough from the side. Grantaire took that as permission to move his chair closer and rest his head on Bahorels shoulder. Not minding at all, Bahorel just made sure they were both comfortable like that. 

‘See? You’re a cuddly person who talks about stuff,’ Feuilly smiled. 

‘I’m a person who worked all night and is tired,’ Grantaire corrected but didn’t move from his comfortable position, his arms around Bahorel. This was another thing he was forever grateful for, both man knew perfectly well he was into man and they didn’t give a shit about it. They didn’t suddenly mind being naked when he showed up, they didn’t act weird when he touched them, they didn’t get uncomfortable when he talked about it. Not in the slightest. They were both fond of Grantaire and let him know as often as they could. When Bahorel found out Grantaire and Jehan gave each other a kiss as greeting he asked if he could be treated the same. When Grantaire needed new clothes, Feuilly went shopping with him and picked out a really nice dress for him, giving his honest opinion when Grantaire tried it on and never laughed or made fun of him, not even when the other people in the shop were giggling. Around them, Grantaire felt free. He knew they would be supportive and accepting no matter what he did, he knew they would be honest and not treat him like glass even though he liked to wear dresses sometimes and be cuddled a lot. 

‘Have you ever been in love?’ Feuilly asked. 

‘Yeah,’ Grantaire sighed. ‘But it didn’t end well. And I don’t feel for Enjolras what I felt for him.’ 

‘Not all love is the same,’ Bahorel shrugged. 

‘And Enjolras really is one of a kind,’ Feuilly added chuckling. ‘As are you.’ 

‘Have you talked to him about this?’ Bahorel wondered, stroking Grantaire’s hair because he knew that would make him even more relaxed. 

‘Vaguely. We talked about lots of things. But I don’t want to guess his intentions.’ 

Again, Bahorel and Feuilly shared a look. ‘That’s fine, but if he’s vague, just ask a straight question,’ Feuilly said. 

‘Or, more likely, a gay question,’ Bahorel said proud, making Grantaire and Feuilly both groan. ‘No, but really, you’re both talkative people, make sure to be clear in what you want and what you’re saying,’ Bahorel nodded. ‘He’ll just be happier if you asked too many times to clarify something instead of too little. And I don’t want you to get hurt because of miscommunication. Or any other reason, I love you R.’ 

‘Oh, and keep us updated,’ Feuilly said. ‘I want front row seats if this is going somewhere.’ 

Grantaire smiled. ‘Okay, but don’t like, ask updates every week or so, that’s just annoying. Very likely I won’t have any updates to begin with.’ 

They both gave him their word and left it at that. Breakfast went on as usual and they both gave Grantaire a strong hug before they left him alone on the boat so he could go to sleep. When he was finally in bed he wasn’t uncomfortable or nervous but he was still giggling to himself about the conversation. This had been one of the most wonderful and weirdest conversations he had ever had. He slept really well that morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was so much fun to write <3 
> 
> Bit short, but that's okay sometimes. Next one will be longer and is almost finished! It will be real different from this one...


End file.
